


The Captain's Primage

by Danowsawa



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Death, Doubt, F/F, F/M, Historical, Pirates, Seafaring, Secret Relationship, Thieving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-01-26 22:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 145,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12567852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danowsawa/pseuds/Danowsawa
Summary: Aboard the Splitstream, Captain Morrison maintains a tight command over his wily crew members. When his daughter, Angela, first comes along, however, it coincides with the revealing of a thieving stowaway, Fareeha, which brings the crew into flux. To make matters worse, Fareeha is soon pursued by a specter from her past, willing to do anything to take what she had stolen from him.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is not related to my other Overwatch stories, all of which are in their own little universe. This is simply my tribute to all these Pharmercy old-time ship stories where Mercy seems to take the form of a mermaid or something ('The Ocean's Mercy' by Meekahsa is a fantastic story that you all NEED to be reading). That is NOT the case here, but the old-time ship motif is one I've grown to really like with these two, so I figured I'd dip my hands in and write up a story of my own! Enjoy!

Angela burst down the wooden steps, her feet quickly rushing down two or three steps at a time, her hand unable to grasp the railing as she descended into the lowest cabin of the ship. Surrounded by endless flames all around her, her skin had quickly become drenched with sweat and she couldn't even hold onto the key, having shoved it into her pocket to keep from losing it. Her foot slipped on the final step, though she quickly recovered as thick smoke rushed into her face, grabbing a hold of the railing for dear life.

Finally, she made it down into the darkest part of the vessel, wiping off her face with her long, laced sleeves, panting hard for breath as the oxygen down here continued to burn beneath the bright orange and red flames above her. She crouched down beneath the smoke, keeping her eyes narrowed as she navigated toward the back of the cabin, reaching deep I to her pocket as she turned a corner around a pile of crates, seeing Fareeha crouched herself as best she could against the support beam behind her that her hands had been bound by.

Angela quickly went on toward her, not taking her eyes off of her target. Fareeha's face sneered as she angrily watched up at the ceiling, her shoulder dipped defensively as sparks of flame burst off the wood and onto her, causing a small grunt from her as she moved around the beam, noticing Angela as she did.

"Angie?!" she shouted, confused, her voice nearly drowned our by the roaring flames around them.

Not hearing her shout, Angela simply ran up to her before immediately rounding around behind her, leaving Fareeha to feel the jolting at her wrists as she struggled with the iron contraption that kept her down here in this inferno. Fareeha's face shot back toward the door as a loud CREEEAK burned through the air before a massive SNAP broke her ears as a gigantic beam fell from the ceiling, blocking most of the path that Angela had just used.

Fareeha's head bolted to the side, "Angie, what the hell; you should have-!"

She paused as another CRASH tore through the air, now beginning to try and yank her chains away from Angela's hands as they tried to work the key into the lock, Angela's voice suddenly shouting, "I'm not leaving you down here! Father had me come get you!"

"What?!" Fareeha shouted back, confused, "Why on Earth would he-?"

A rattle went through Fareeha's wrists as the lock went undone, her hands now freed from behind the beam. She slowly pulled her arms forward as an aching pain kept them sore as her voice seethed through clenched teeth. In an instant, however, Angela had burst around to her, wrapping her arms around her as her face buried itself into her side.

"I didn't want to lose you," Angela muttered, inaudibly, as Fareeha reached down to hug her back.

Another decisive rumble roared through the ship which broke their reunion, leaving Fareeha's head to bolt as she rushed to seek out a path to the exit. She frowned as Angela remained buried into her, her arms swooping down to pick her up as she started walking around the flames, searching for as good of a path as she could.

She remained low, trying to keep Angela beneath the plume of smoke that ran in circles halfway up toward the ceiling, her foot inadvertently stepping into a pile of embers, forcing her to cry out more in surprise than pain.

"Fareeha!" Angela shouted worriedly, though her escort didn't bother replying as she backed up for a rolling start before dashing onward, hopping skillfully over the trail of flames.

She breathed heavily, "Almost there. I don't think I can cross this one though; we may just have to run through."

Angela had her arms wrapped around Fareeha's neck, though her grip tightened at her words, worriedly. Fareeha took another few steps backward as she eyed the exit- the same set of stairs that Angela had come down, preparing for another mad scramble through fiery ground.

Just before she started, a sudden, large stream of water began pouring from the thin cross-hatched opening from above, as if a hose had been laid over it. The massive amount of water brought a gigantic "TSHHHHH" sound to their ears as the flames died down, the water also ricocheting to other patches of fire, the smoke in the air now becoming devilishly black.

Seizing the chance, Fareeha immediately ran forward, lowering her upper body to cover Angela as she broke through the downpour of water, toward the stairs, ascending them carefully as she felt the slipperiness of her shoes on the soaked wood.

"O-Okay," Fareeha panted, "That should be *cough* the worst of it."

She let Angela down to her feet, the younger of the two attentively checking on Fareeha's face, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, waving her off, "Just some smoke in my lungs. I'll be fine. Come on; let's get above deck before the smoke starts in here."

Angela nodded, doing what she could to help Fareeha move along, which wasn't much, though they made their way through this lower deck which would ultimately lead up into the open air of the deck. Fareeha felt some dizziness from her inhalation, but kept on.

"I told Father I wasn't getting off this ship without you," Angela explained, quietly, grinning, "When the fires started, he immediately took hold of me. Guess he knew I'd come save you."

"You need to watch yourself," Fareeha explained, "You don't need a sea dog like me to tell you that."

As they climbed the final set of stairs, Fareeha's head hung low, weakly, her damp, dark hair hiding her profile from Angela as they stomped up toward the deck, first noticing the sky above them had the same orange and red hue that the basement deck had had. Angela kept her eyes down to Fareeha's feet, making sure she didn't loose her footing, but in a split second, she felt a tight grip around her arm, yanking her away from Fareeha quicker than she could react.

Shocked, she couldn't even shout, but she looked up to see Jesse holding her tightly against himself as he stared across the ship, Angela's eyes quickly following his glare. Across from them stood her father, Captain Morrison, a distance look on his face as he watched Fareeha carefully, a hand upon the gun in his holster.

"Amari," he muttered, grimly.

She stared back at him, "Jack."

Morrison shook his head, "I don't need to tell you why my ship of burning right into the sea, do I?"

Fareeha glared at him, though her serious stare grew into a combination of confusion and horror. As if taking her silence as her truly not knowing, Captain Morrison laid it out for her in the form of his arm raising up, his finger pointed up toward the stern side of the ship, forcing Fareeha to slowly turn as she came to her realization. Angela, too, managed to turn her neck around, despite Jesse's insistent facing back toward his captain.

At the top of the stern side, near the far railing beyond the helm, stood a black-clocked figure, their long, trench-coat like dress having been ripped all along near its length from years of battle. Turned away, their face remained hidden, but Fareeha entered a sneer as she lowered her head.

"Blacktalon," she muttered, more to herself with the crackling of flame all around her.

"Sorry kiddo," the captain shrugged, "I don't care what my daughter says; this ship is my life. If I have to give up a stowaway to save her, that's what I'm gonna do."

As if in anticipation for her outburst, Jesse's arms grew stiff as Angela's eyes flew open wide, her body beginning to fight back against the officer's grip, though he remained strong as she shouted, "Father! NO!"

Captain Morrison only shook his head slowly, speaking evenly, "Sorry sweetheart. She'll tell you the same- we all got to pay the piper at some point. Just so happens that hers has come a-callin' on my Lady."

Fareeha began turning toward the stern side, slowly making her way over as Angela continued to cry out, "Fareeha! They'll KILL you!"

As she passed Jesse's struggling body, Fareeha managed a grin from her downturned head, "Better me than you, Angie…"

"N-NO!" Angela shouted again, fighting as best she could against the arms that held her back.

The only thing that stopped Angela dead in her tracks was the suddenly –boom- that rumbled through the ship itself, reverberating right through Jesse's body and through her own. A feeling of all kinds of evil being paraded throughout her very nervous system. She felt a shiver as her eyes looked back up toward the helm, the booming footsteps of Blacktalon as the figure slowly turned, its boots emitting a hellish quaking.

"IIIIIIIIIII seeeeeeeee you've retuuuuurned," Blacktalon's voice breathed into the scorched air, seeming as though to bring an icy presence to this sea of flame aboard the ocean.

Fareeha grunted, "Call it what you want; you came to find me."

Blacktalon, seemingly devoid of emotion, only went on, "Have you what you've taken from me?"

The stowaway sighed, reaching up and into her loose-fitting shirt, pulling out a necklace, "Yeah; I have it."

The dark man's nearly non-existent face suddenly shone with a look of wonder at the sight. From the end of the necklace was a locket, shaped like a crude drawing of a fleur-de-lis; its silver facing gleaming as the flames surrounding the ship glimmered from it. Blacktalon gave a dark grin as he took a step forward, another ghastly shiver running through Angela's body.

Jesse lowered his head, staring at her seriously, "Now stop that shakin', girl. You're giving me a start, thinking you have a cold on this blasted ship. It'll be over soo-"

"You don't feel it?" Angela asked, quickly, interrupting him.

His eyes shrunk at his critiqued her seriously, confused, though Angela immediately whipped her body around to watch as Blacktalon approached Fareeha, his arm outstretched toward her as she dropped the necklace so that it fall to her chest. She stuffed her hands into her pockets as she stared at him, defiantly, his hand coming ever closer.

Suddenly, an eerie blue light began to shone from the necklace at it began to shake, Blacktalon's eyes beginning to glow the same color as his hand was only a foot or so away from Fareeha's cold face. The fleur-de-lis suddenly began to levitate into the air, leaving everybody on the deck with a look of suspicion, save for Angela, who's eyes were full of worry. Fareeha's face sneered in the face of Blacktalon's proximity, though he didn't seem to take offense to it. He simply went on vacantly staring at the object floating just in front of her face.

Blacktalon shook his head, "Yooooou took my life, girl, and noooooow I want it back."


	2. Returning Home

Captain Jack Morrison quickly walked down the sidewalk of his hometown, a sleepy little port town that had become a rather bustling trading post in the last few decades, thanks to the increasing importance of sea trade. He had always loved the sea, having been aboard a number of vessels as a child, but when his parents settled down, they decided to retire to this town, still just a blip on the map at the time.

With time, however, trade arrived, and the town responded positively, particularly due to the sheer number of revenue that came from the passing traders. Jack knew this was his chance to return to his parent's trade, a humble homage to their life's work, and he knew he would do it well. He spent all of his inheritance on a sizeable vessel, named it the 'Splitstream' after a story his parents endlessly relayed to him at bedtime, and took to the seas, by himself at first, though along the way, he picked up a number of responsible crew members.

Never among these seadogs, however, was his daughter, Angela. Adamantly opposed to exposing her to such a grueling lifestyle, Jack spared no expense at giving his daughter a comfortable home here in his hometown, and though she had been fine as a child, rebellion quickly settled in as she aged, and now as a young adult, she felt that same drive that chased Jack himself back out to sea to follow in his own parent's footsteps. However, Jack did what he could to resist, much to Angela's chagrin and, even, wit.

Jack turned heads as he walked quickly along the sidewalk, his head buried in invoices and charters, and while a few of the townspeople might have thought him a businessman late for a meeting, the few that knew him also knew of his reason to make haste. Indeed, as his eyes peeked up from his handful of paper, his eyes shut with dismay, dropping his arm to his side as he began to run toward the fence of his home, just as an older lady, Mrs. Boretti, slammed the front door behind her, angrily, stomping down to where Jack stood.

His face had already dropped disappointingly as he opened the gate for her, the older lady fuming as she threw a closed envelope at him, speaking heatedly, "That's it, Jack! I'm done with that one! Never in my life have I been subjected to so much- so much… ARGH! Take your money back; I'm not about to be bound to that child of yours for another moment!"

Jack sadly nodded as he replied, "I understand, Mrs. Boretti; you have my apologies. Have a good day."

She grunted up at him, angrily, before turning to stomp away, throwing her purse over her shoulder as she disappeared down the street. Jack closed his eyes, solemnly, as his head fell back, sighing deeply as he peered toward his home from his despondent position, seeing the visage of Angela in the second-story window from just within his vision. As he lowered his head to look up at her, she quickly vanished into the dark interior, the shutters immediately shutting with a *clack*, leaving him with a shake of the head as he groaned, walking through the gate and up toward the door.

Pushing the door open, Angela was hurrying down the stairs, happily rushing up to greet him, "Father! You're ba-!"

He reached out to grasp her shoulder, preventing her hug as his head lowered, upset, as his eyes remained fixed on her, "How many sitters are you going to send out of here running for their lives?"

Angela angrily frowned as she pulled away, crossing her arms, "It's not my fault. I wouldn't have sitters to begin with if you'd just take me on a trip with you."

Jack groaned as he turned toward the wall, pulling his coat off to be hung up, "We're not having this discussion again. You need to focus on your schoolwork; you can't learn anything on a ship."

Angrily, Angela puffed out her chest as if she'd been rehearsing, "Finance, accounting, organization, problem-solving, deadline-management, rope-tying, scurvy prevention, mast fold-"

"How to dress lacerations," Jack interrupted, turning toward her, gravely, "How to calm down a seaman whose arm has been ripped off by an unwieldy spar? Learning how to watch a crewman flailing in the sea after having been thrown off, knowing there's nothing you can do?"

He shook his head, "Angela, there's nothing about this life you need to know about. Keep to your studies, alright?"

Angela turned away with an inaudible groan. She hated when her father got 'deep' in that way; it was rare to occur, and he was never one to reveal much in the way of feelings. It usually forced her to stop arguing, even if she felt passionately about something she argued for.

As she relinquished herself to being quiet, her father walked past her, giving her a quick sidelong hug before entering further into the home, "Do we have anything in line for dinner?"

Angela didn't move, but she did speak up after him, "Just some resentment, with a helping of disappointment."

Jack rolled his eyes as he entered the kitchen, rolling up the long-sleeves of his dress shirt, finding that Angela had, indeed, already made up dinner. He sighed, again, as she approached from behind him, entering the kitchen to prepare their plates.

"I will never understand," he muttered, shaking his head in quiet disbelief, "How do you manage to run off every sitter I leave you, yet still manage to cook up a meal?"

His daughter gave him a sarcastic glare, "Because I'm gooood. Y'know, the kind of multi-tasking that would come in handy on a ship."

"Uh huh," Jack nodded, crossing his arms, "What kind of ship?"

Angela's lips pulled to the side in angered thought, knowing that her father knew very well that she'd be unable to give him the correct answer. She knew he was asking what kind of ship he sailed, but realizing she'd be unable to answer, she spent her quick time in thought thinking of some sort of comeback.

All she had was, "One that floats!"

Jack shook his head, revealing only the slightest of grins as he turned back toward the dining room, "I rest my case."

Angela rolled her eyes unhappily as he lowered her head again, focusing on plating the two of their meals.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As usual, Jack ate quietly at the table, going through his stack of papers that sat beside his place setting, flipping through them carefully as he chewed his meal, making sure to pull the stack away whenever leaning over for another bite, carefully avoiding any soiling of the papers.

Angela did much the same on this occasion, though she had a book beside her. Unlike her father, she was furiously ripping through the pages, not bothering to avoid dropping any food on it, and hardly taking in much of any information that she was gleaning.

Finally, she slammed her hand onto the book, calling forth her father's attention as he peered up toward her. She pulled the book into the air, pointing to what turned out to be an entry in the encyclopedia, as her face leaned over to stare at him, smugly, as if having won a challenge.

"Fluyt!" she shouted, proudly, alongside a devilishly cocky grin.

Jack nodded slowly as he returned to his papers, "Good work. You're still not going."

Angela dropped the book on the table as her face instantly dropped into a sarcastic glare, her body slowly returning to her seat without breaking eye-contact, "You know, you could give me some credit. You come at me with so many trick questions; at least I'm able to discern what is and what isn't."

"Sweetheart," Jack muttered, sitting up straight from his work, "I asked you just last year how to prevent yourself from being attacked from a drop bear and you came to me with forks in your hair."

"It was a joke!"

"You went down to the bazaar looking for some Australian brewer's yeast!" Jack retorted, unable to hide his chuckling as he leaned back in his chair, "Sometimes I wonder how you're as old as you are."

Angela angrily crossed her arms, "Maybe if I saw more of the world…"

Jack sighed, leaning toward the table to poke at another bit of his food, "Tell you what. The Splitstream is being careened this weekend before we depart again. How about I take you with me down to the yards? Will that end this line of questioning? I would like to visit with my loving daughter at some point this weekend, you know."

Groaning, Angela returned to her plate as well, answering weakly, "Fine."

"Good," Jack nodded, pushing his papers away, "Alright, now we can talk. How have you been?"

Angela poked lazily at her food, "I've been. Grades are good."

"Yeah, and Mrs. Boretti isn't," Jack replied, slightly amusedly.

Rolling her eyes, Angela shrugged, "Hey, I wasn't the one telling me to get to bed earlier than usual. I don't care that I was out late the night before- I'm in university."

"Out late?" Jack's eyes narrowed as he watched his daughter.

She replied easily, "It wasn't anything bad; Chrissa, Julie, and I were just downtown watching a play that went late. I even got Julie to come back home with me to explain, but that woman won't listen to anything that doesn't come from one of those rag newspapers."

Jack reached over for his mug of coffee, hiding his grin as he took a sip, speaking as he finished, "You remind me so much of myself sometimes, you know. I wasn't halfway as rebellious as you, but I didn't take crap from anybody. Still don't."

Angela groaned, "I know."

Jack chuckled, "Oh come on, if I treated your lies like I do the lies of business partners, you wouldn't have this house over your head. I'd like to think I've been a fair and honorable father."

Peering away in disagreement, Angela didn't reply as Jack reached up to scratch the back of his head, "You know, it never leaves my mind that your mother is no longer with us. Whenever I discipline you, or try and do what's best for you, I always try and keep her in mind. I know I'm just an old dog; I can't really give you what a mother could."

Angela's eyes turned toward him, sadly, as her father's head lowered. He definitely seemed downtrodden in thinking back on his wife, but as usual, that feeling never would push him to tears. Nothing did that. Even when she had just died, Angela remembered watching him at the funeral, between her own tears, not seeing even a single flinch reaching across his empty face.

Sighing heavily, Angela leaned onto the table, toward her father, "You've been good to me, father. I just wish you'd-"

"Wish I'd let you get away with more, I know," he grinned, nodding slightly, "That's what you mean."

Angela eyed him, drolly, as he turned up to meet her eyes, groaning himself before continuing, "Look, promise me you'll at least try to be respectful to the next sitter, and I promise to try and let you spread your wings a bit, okay?"

"Just stop calling them 'sitters' and you've got a deal," Angela muttered, blankly, "Seriously, I'm not five."

Jack smiled, "Noted."

Angela's eyes grew wide for just a moment in astonishment at her father's continued expectation that she remain a child, though she continued eating, going along as her father spoke up again, "How are your friends, anyway?"

Angela eyed him, "You remember the rule, right?"

Jack nodded in reply, Angela quickly speaking, "Chrissa's fine. How's Jesse?"

Laughing, Jack shook his head, "No, no; you're trying to hard. Let's do that again."

Sighed, Angela frowned, "Chrissa's fine. She managed to get that internship in town, so her family often stops by on the way there and back to check up on me. I swear, even when you're gone, it's like you're still on me like a hawk."

Jack grinned proudly, "Marshall and I go way back; of course he'd keep an eye on you. Good to hear his daughter's doing well. How about-"

"Jesse," Angela interrupted, frowning still.

Nodding quickly, Jack answered, "Jesse's about as good as usual. He's back home while I'm here for that careening, so I'll have to stop by on our way up to Europe. He wouldn't admit it, but he's wary of the albatross around his neck; he probably didn't want to sail more than he had to without seeing his family."

"What's that mean?"

Jack thought for a moment before going on, "Well, some sailors believe that albatrosses embody the spirits of sailors who are no longer with us, so killing one, it's believed you're signing your own death wish. Jesse accidentally killed one on our last trip, so I think there's some part of him that feels as though that's going to come back to get him."

"Do you believe that?" Angela questioned, innocently.

"No," Jack chuckled, lightly, "No, I don't believe in that stuff. That being said, if Jesse does, it's all the more real for him and that's all that counts."

Angela nodded as she took in his words, beginning from where she had left off, "Well, Julie's doing well, too. She's sort of gotten into reading a lot of atlases and other worldly stuff; I think I must have gotten to her."

Jack knew Chrissa well enough, as her father and him had been crewmen on a ship together in the past, but Angela's other friends were quite the mystery to him, given that he was often gone for so long. He had met their families, but still, he knew Marshall would keep Chrissa in line; he wasn't much sure about Julie's family, though.

"Just as long as you aren't thinking of sailing off or anything," Jack muttered, unamused, as he took a bite to eat.

Angela managed a quick glance toward him before shaking her head, slowly, "I wouldn't, even if I could."

Her father's eyes suddenly caught hers as he watching her, curiously, before lowering his head once again, wondering what she had meant until she went on, quieter this time, "How's Hana?"

"Oh," Jack answered, slightly surprised at her choice of which of his crew to inquire about, "Well, uh, she's fine, just- why her of all people? You always ask about Jesse and Lena."

Angela grinned before quickly reaching up to cover her lips with both hands, too late to hide her amusement as Jack eyed her, confused, before a subtle knocking arose from the dining room window, the captain's face slowly turning to see Lena Oxton standing right outside, doubtlessly in the flower bed, her hands coiled as if emulating a telescope as she pulled them to her eye, pointing toward her Captain, as if she were sighting him from afar.

"That explains an awful lot," Jack answered, exhaustedly, as he pushed his chair back from the table to stand, though Angela rushed to her own feet to stop him, quickly rushing toward the door.

"I got it!" she shouted, leaving her father to slowly return to his seat, watching Lena leave the window with a suddenly look of shock on her face as her head jerked downward, having unknowingly stepping on a flower or something.

Jack's lips shrunk into a frown as she disappeared, taking another swig of coffee as his eyes closed. Meanwhile, Angela excitedly pulled the front door open, revealing Lena on the other side, her father's third-mate and, certainly, worthy of such a rank, given her energy. Lena excitedly hopped into the home, taking Angela into a tight hug.

"Kiddo!" she shouted, happily, "You've grown so much since I last saw you! You were, what, eleven?"

"Try eighteen," Angela corrected, amusingly, "And that was just a year or two ago."

"Huh," Lena thought aloud, simply giving a smile and a shrug as she simply accepted Angela's explanation, "Well, whatever you say!"

Lena was a ball of energy, which made her near-perfect for her role as third-mate. For the longest time, it held responsibilities that Captain Morrison simply held for himself, but upon porting in London one day, he was astounded by her quickness. She was working as a simple errand-girl for the shipyard, running papers back and forth, but Morrison was shocked by her ability to never stop- when faced with a crowd, she simply jumped onto crates or even buildings, furiously dashing from point to point.

Bringing her aboard, she had been around ships enough to understand most things, and given her ability to move quickly, she rather hurriedly worked her way to third-mate, which she felt was simply a glorified look-out, though Morrison also had her relaying messages and keeping everything running smoothly. Her quickness at climbing up to the crow's nest had even become legendary in certain deckhand circles.

Immediately upon being led into the dining room, Lena jumped toward her Captain, wrapping her arms around him in an unreciprocated hug, leaving the man wholly unamused by the act as he muttered, "At ease, please. You're making me look bad in front of my daughter."

"Look bad?!" Lena shouted as she returned to her feet, "Angela, you don't see any softies here, do ya?"

"Nope!" Angela confirmed with a grin, "I only see you and my father! A man so stable no wind could ever tear him asunder!"

Jack stared at his daughter disdainfully as Lena wrapped him up into a hug once more, happily talking as she did, "See?! Good to see ya, Cap!"

"Alright, alright," Jack confirmed, gently pushing her away, "Nice seeing you too, Oxton. Take a seat; Angela will get you a plate."

"Ah, darn, I wish I could!" Lena answered, about as sadly as she could, given her still-bright speech, "But I just stopped by to let ya know that the Splitstream's ready for inspection tomorrow! I gave it a good ol' run over, but you still need ta check it out."

"Good," Jack nodded as Angela returned, sadly leaning against the entryway to the kitchen, "I'll be down there first thing tomorrow, then I'll consult with my daughter; I haven't seen her for a long time, so if she can handle me, I'd like to stay for a few days."

"Wicked!" Lena shouted, turning toward Angela, "I'm officially under your dad's watch, so I'm here as long as he is!"

Angela smiled brightly as she answered, "Will you be at the inspection? Father promised he'd take me to the shipyards tomorrow…"

Jack nodded, "Of course. Lena, I hope you'll tag along."

"Of course!" she shouted, "I wouldn't miss it for a tiger with spots on its back!"


	3. In Lena's Corner

Jack hurried along as his fingers flipped through the handful of papers hed gone over religiously the night before, doing his best to memorize just who was trading what and to which port beyond the seas. He yanked out the slip he had been looking for, handing it over across the counter of a stall to the bazaar, who nodded in acceptance before waving him off.

"Aye, Captain," the bazaar muttered, aimlessly, "I'll have my men load it all up fer ya."

"Thanks," Jack nodded with a smirk, "I'll have it in Buenos Aires faster than you can sell those sandcakes in the window there."

"Yer on!" the bazaar laughed, shaking his head amusedly, "Here, go on and take this to cover primage."

He dropped a small sack of coins onto the counter, catching Jack's bewildered expression, "N-No, I couldn't possibly - you're already paying for the shipping."

The man waved him off, "Morrison, you've been a seam'n as wily as you are loyal. I can't even remember a time my payment wasn't on time. You've been a good friend and a better merchant runner; let me celebrate that with a little extra coin in your pocket, aye?"

Jack smiled, leaning over to take the bazaar's hand with his own two, covering his up as he nodded in thanks, "You're too good to me, old friend. I can't see you this journey will be much different. Back on the 24th of November?"

"Aye," the bazaar agreed, nodding once more, "Now get outa here, ya scallywag! I've got ta get sellin' those sandcakes there!"

"Good luck," Jack replied, happily, before topping his cap and turning to leave, making his way out of the small, cramped building that sat just in between two larger buildings.

Stepping out into the crowded port that sat just beside the shipyards, Jack shoved the papers and sack of coins into his pocket before maneuvering through the mass of people, moving more sideways than anything as he made his way toward the statue in the middle of the square, where Lena was to keep watch over Angela's while he worked. Soon enough, he noticed them, with Angela's face still a model of shock and amazement as she continuously stared at the flowing rover of bodies rushing to and fro.

Lena sat, cross-legged, up on one of the statue's arms, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun as she scoped her captain out, pointing at Jack as he made his way into sight, quickly leaning down toward Angela, "Man ho!"

Angela quickly looked up to follow Lena's pointing, smiling from ear to ear as her father came into view, her legs quickly rushing over toward him, nearly knocking him over as he wasn't expecting her hug. Nearly jostling his papers, he sighed mildly, though quickly returned the hug.

"You're going to crumple the orders up," he frowned, "You need to look professional, you know."

Angela eyed him from below, her chin against his chest as she frowned, "But Lena said-"

"Oxton says she was a dolphin in a previous life," Jack interrupted, drolly, "I respect and trust her skills as my third mate, but there are some things I expect from myself, as captain, that I wouldn't from my crew."

"Thank goodness," the two heard Lena complain from above as she shook her head, displeased, "Rigidity gives you wrinkles, you know."

Jack looked down at his daughter with a disinterested expression before pulling away, going over the forms in his hands, "Okay, once I go through all the invoices and get them checked out, I need to be back at my ship by midday for the loading. Primage fees usually come out of the vessel's pocket, but Victor was kind enough to pay it himself, so…"

He pulled out the small satchel of coins to hand to Angela, who accepted it warily, unsure of its origin, "What's primage?"

"That's what we pay the loaders who go through the trouble of getting the cargo onto the ship," Jack explained, dropping the bag into his daughter's waiting hands, "Small price to pay for me not having to do it. I have a few more orders to get sorted, so if you and Lena want to go shop down by the marketplace, that money's yours."

Excitedly, Lena hopped down from the statue with gusto, immediately bolting to Amgela's side, grasping her shoulders as she peered into the sack of coins, "Oooooh baby!"

Jack chuckled mildly before Angela smiled up at him appreciatively, reaching over to hug him again, "Thanks."

"Bah, just enjoy yourselves. And Lena," Jack spoke, suddenly with an authoritative tone, "Be prepared to head out."

"Aye aye!" she shouted, her happy-go-lucky expression immediately disappearing as she took on the sudden appearance and tone of a third mate, causing Angela to laugh at the juxtaposition.

Jack nodded, "Good. See you two soon."

He gave Angela a rough pat on her shoulder before turning to leave, diving once more into that sea of people. Lena quickly returned to her excited state, grasping Angela by the hand and pulling her in the opposite direction, up toward the higher docks that were more of a boardwalk amusement park than much else.

"Ohmanohmanohman!" Lena repeated, excitedly, "Come on; I just gotta get that giant plush bear! I don't care what Cap says; it's fitting on board somewhere!"

Angela followed along, albeit mostly by force, but she finally managed a few words in as Lena's furious pace slowed in the presence of heavier foot traffic, "Hey, Lena?"

"What's up?"

Angela's lips curled up in nervous thought, speaking up quietly, "Do you think I'm ready to go with father?"

"On the Splitstream?" Lena asked, rhetorically, looking Angela over with a cursory glance, "I guess. I don't know; I've kids born between the gun decks that lived their whole lives out at sea. Why? You wanting to go out?"

"Well, yeah, but father insists I stay here forever," Angela muttered, distantly, "I'm not a kid anymore, you know."

Lena nodded, "Yeah, but he's just lookin' out for ya. He's like that with the crew as well. Your old man is a lot of things, but if you asked what he was most of, it'd be loyalty. The man stops at nothing to make sure we're all sound as a pound. He's just doing the same for you."

"I know," Angela frowned, "I just wish he'd give me a chance every now and then to, I don't know, jump out the nest and learn to fly."

Smiling gloomily, Lena paused to turn toward Angela, the younger of the two staring up at her worriedly as she spoke, "You know who else flew too far for him to follow?"

Angela paused, her eyes looking away as her head lowered, quietly. She knew the answer, though it was an explanation she didn't often offer herself. Hearing it from somebody else, however, she suddenly faced the biggest reason her father was so adamant about keeping her safe at home.

Lena suddenly patted her shoulder, giving her a smile, "Come on; I'll win ya something. I barely see ya; let's not make it all mopey!"

"Yeah," Angela nodded, weakly, as Lena began her furious pace, pulling her along.

The third mate still managed to converse as she dashed and blew past bystanders, throwing her head over her shoulder as she did, "I guess I could teach ya some stuff about it to help ya out. You know, some basic rules and stuff; I caught that list of nautical terms ya had in your hand earlier."

"Uh, I guess," Angela answered, unsure of taking much of any knowledge from somebody so eccentric, though, she was a third mate after all; not a position for most anybody less than exemplary.

"You gotta boyfriend?" Lena asked, catching Angela wholly off guard.

"Uh- N-No!" Angela stuttered back in reply, her face blowing up into crimson, "W-Why would you think that?!"

Lena eyed her curiously for a moment, though quickly went on, shrugging, "It's just a question. It's a rule; if you're seeing somebody, you've gotta cut it off. You don't need that hanging over your head when you're out on the ocean's waters, right? Out there, anything goes; you're no longer a member of any nation- you're a part of a nation of just a few sailors trying to stay afloat."

She finished up innocently enough, "Besides, it isn't much fair to them; what with waiting forever for you to return 'n all. Just better for both people- you gotta cut it off. Unless you're like Jesse and have a family 'n all."

Angela tried to hide her still-red face as she asked, quietly, "Did you-?"

Lena scoffed, interrupting her as she answered, "Oh yeah, every time. Every time I end back up home though, I can't help but run back to that bird; goddamn, it's like she has me in a trance!"

"She?" Angela wondered, sincerely, earning a sneaky grin from Lena as she went on.

"Oh yeah, we go waaaay back, Emmy and me. Back when I was running lines down the docks, that dame caught my eye so hard I missed my footing and landed in the bloody bay! That's rule two, though."

Angela's eyes nearly winced at the mention of a second rule being involved in that story, "R-Rule two?"

"Ya plunder, or ya get plundered," Lena pointed out, rather devilishly, "I kinda stole her from some guy she was seeing. Even before I made it out to see, I was already on the trail of some sea-sunk booty!"

Lena went on walking for only a brief moment before she stopped, her arms going limp as she suddenly burst into laughter, swinging her body lazily as her head rose into the air, cackling happily at her own unintended joke, leaving Angela with a slight laugh herself, though Lena was absolutely lost in her own world by know.

Coming to her senses, Lena's laughter turned into spasms of giggles as they approached the midway, the dock often filled with mechanical oddities that came to this place from many parts unknown, some of the technology absolutely dazzling to the locals. Lena was quick to 'ooo' and 'ahh' at each demonstration as the two passed along, leaving Angela to silently examine the mechanisms that whirred and churned while peeling apples automatically or strung up rope.

"Hey Lena…" Angela spoke up quietly, the sad tone quick to catch her senior's attention, "Does father ever talk about mom?"

Her eyes rose up toward the sky as her hand massaged her chin, thinking deeply, "Hmm… Y'know, now that you mention it, not really. I mean, even on our drunker ni- I mean, nights where we're totally sober, of course; even then, he doesn't talk much about her. I know her name, but that's about it. Jesse would know; he's been wrangling alongside your dad for forever. Why?"

"I don't know," Angela sighed, "He doesn't say much about her to me, either. Maybe a story or two, but nothing too broad. I know they met on the seas and were both crewed on the same ships and all for most of the time, but that's about it."

Lena smiled, "Well, I do know that all that he does, all this work and time he takes to be a kick-ass merchant ship captain, he does it for you. He knows he can't really be your mother, so he does all he can to make up for that. Honestly, I don't think he believes he can be all he can be without her, but you didn't hear that from me!"

Angela smiled, "Don't worry; I've sort of come to that myself."

"Ah! Observant child!" Lena praised, slightly patronizingly, rubbing her hand atop of Angela's head, "You'll be a good lookout yet! Just like your good ol' Lena!"

Laughing in reply, Angela shook her head, smiling, "Funny; I've always looked up to you."

"Me?! Really?!" Lena shouted out, amazed, though Angela was quick to pull on her arm to pipe her down.

"Not so loud!" Angela whispered, "If father hears, he'll keep us separated!"

Lena scoffed, "Pfft, I'd like to see him try! I fly across those masts; I'd show him what-for, flying above my station like nobody's business!"

She snickered at the thought, thought the both of them knew, well enough, that Lena Oxton wouldn't ever dare to pull rank in such a way. Still, Angela appreciated the thought of having somebody in her corner, so to speak. She had, indeed, looked up to Lena; especially in the darker days after her mother's death, Angela couldn't help but see a ray of sunshine from her very smile, no matter how weak it might have been, given the situation.

"Hey…" Angela spoke up, quietly, catching Lena's ear once again, "I was sort of lying when I said I didn't have a boyfriend…"

"Ah ha!" Lena shouted, accusatorily, though with enough of a conniving grin that Angela didn't much mind, "I knew you were too pretty of a girl not to have something going on! Let me tell you; all the pretty girls are always taken- I kind of thought you were a bit odd, actually! I mean, no offense or anything, but I mean, come on, you-"

"Thank you!" Angela interrupted, with a rather nervous tone.

Lena then frowned, "Does your father not know?"

"Well, I mean…" Angela trailed off, looking away as she scratched the back of her neck, nervously, her eyes narrowed in fright, "I don't really know how to tell him… I mean, I don't have a 'boyfriend' per se…"

Lena's face contorted curiously, her eyes shutting in thought, "Wait, but you just said you were lying abou- oooooh… Well shucks, kiddo; I was just joking around earlier. I wouldn't have said that stuff if I'd known you were-"

"I-It's okay," Angela assured, blushing a deep red, "You know… I just trust you is all, and I figured you should know, I guess."

Her hand still at her chin, Lena's fingers reached up to stroke her cheek as she stared off into the distance, her eyes nearly shutting against the sea wind that blew to her, her mind working in circles before she finally looked back toward Angela, "Let's get you on this next trip."

"W-What?!" Angela replied, shocked, "I-I- But father-"

Lena grinned, "Kiddo, you've grown up! I mean, I knew you had, but, like, wow! We need to spread those wings, alright! If it's my last act as third mate, by George, I'm gonna get you on the Splitstream before it next leaves port, got it?"

Despite wanting such a thing for years now, actually hearing it being discussed so vigorously, Angela's heart suddenly raced as fear flew through her, unable to speak as her mouth became dry. Lena gave her a reassuring wrap of her arm around her shoulders, giving a spirited pump of her arm.

"Come on," Lena smiled, gently, "Do you really want this?"

Angela could feel her body shake at the question, though at that minute, through all the fear and apprehension, she found that original desire to sail alongside her father, to follow in her mother's footsteps, if only to feel whatever connection she could feel to her. Her father had always preached courage, and she knew, all too well, that this was the time to practice it.

"Yes," she nodded through a wavering voice.

"Alright!" Lena shouted, "Oh, you'll love it! We'll get to drop the masts together! and roll lemons and limes across the deck! and get on Jesse's bad side! and watch the dolphins swimming alongside the ship! It'll be great!"

Angela smiled, weakly, at the thought, finally nudged toward that uncomfortable place that wasn't at her familiar home. Still, she felt that tug of adventure, perhaps the same tug that first pulled her father out into the endless ocean. She could finally help her father, learn all that he knew, become the progeny that he could be truly proud to offer the world.

She could finally spread her wings.


	4. Reconcile

Lena and Angela kept exchanging mischievous glances over dinner, completely unbeknownst to Jack, who was too engrossed in his invoices once again to even have a faint idea of what the two were up to. Angela had prepared the meal while Jack and Lena made arrangements for their next voyage, though it was all for preparation. Jack had made it clear to every one of his clients that he would be taking a few days off to be with his daughter, though not too long.

It was because of this that Angela spoke up, her mouth half full with some steak, "Uh, father; I thought this was 'us' time."

"You invited Oxton to come along, dear," he replied, monotonously, "There's nothing 'us' when you have her along."

Lena scowled, "Hey, what's that mean?!"

Shrugging, Jack eyed her from his downturned position, "You both always go on and on about some random nonsense that I have no bearing of, or you two are both laughing about some embarrassing story about me that the other one doesn't know. I'm simply allowing you two to go about your business- you and I can spend time together once Lena heads off to the inn."

Lena gave a smarmy frown, "You think you have us aaaaall figured out, dontcha?"

"I know I do," he grinned, just barely, "Now, go on; I won't stop you two from talking about whatever it is you two conjure up."

Angela shared a droll stare with Lena, the latter leaning back in her chair, nonchalantly, "Weeeeell you seem to know an awful lot about a lot of things, Cap."

Jack lowered his mug onto the table, leaving his papers as he quickly looked up toward his third mate, "Okay, what's going on?"

Frowning, Angela glared toward her cohort, "Real subtle there, Lena."

Jack continued his stare toward Lena, the woman beginning to shiver nervously under his eyes as she rubbed her hand up and down her arm, "Ya know, we were just figuring out what to get ya for your birth-"

Amgela shook her head, rapidly, knowing her father's birthday was months away.

"…Christma-"

Angela repeated her motion, as Christmas was quite a ways away as well.

"…Bastille-"

"Alright," Jack groaned, turning to his daughter, "Now I'd like a clear answer; what are you wanting?"

"I don't-"

"You're using Oxton to get something, Angela. Now, I stead of beating around the bush, just-" he paused, groaning before continuing, "Is this about you coming along?"

Angela silently frowned as Lena spoke up in her stead, "Cap, she just wants ta-"

"Yeah, I know what she wants," he spoke, lowly, with as straight of a face as either of the two others had ever seen, "She wants adventure or whatever. Oxton, how much of what we do would you consider 'adventure'?"

Lena sighed, trying to avoid answering, until Jack turned to her, staring seriously enough for her to know to follow instructions, "…very little."

"Uh huh," Jack nodded, turning back to Angela, "You have no idea how much you resemble me, Angela. I know exactly what you want, because I felt it too, and I know what it gets people. Nowhere. You spend your entire life without a home; without anything even resembling comfort or routine."

He'd spoken calmly, finishing up as he patting his mouth with a napkin, "You get all this romanticism in your head and you want to rush out there into the unknown. But deep down, it frightens you, right? That same sense of unknown. Huh?"

Angela didn't reply, simply lowering her head in a vain attempt to shield herself from her father's words tearing at her. Lena must have noticed as she sighed lightly, leaning onto the table to get a better look at her captain.

"Geez, Cap; give her a-"

"And I don't appreciate you going behind my back," Jack interrupted, turning toward her, "Let me the parenting, thanks."

Feeling shot down, Lena sunk back into her chair, despondently shoving her hands into her pockets, her appetite lost. Jack continued on as if nothing had happened, quietly poking his fork at his plate, unable to see his daughter scowling at him as he shook his head, muttered aloud.

"I know you two want to have a barrel of laughs out at sea, but that's not how it works," he spoke, quietly, "There's deadlines, work, turmoil. There's nothing good that that life can give you besides a paycheck and heartbreak."

In a second, Angela shot up to her feet, pounding her hands violently into the table, the tears along her eyes flying off her face as her lips flew apart angrily, "It gave me to you!"

Lena's bolted up toward Angela, her body slouched lazily as though she wanted to disappear, realizing that she was involved in a rather personal moment as Angela's face slowly trembled. Jack didn't move, though that also meant he had refrained from taking another bite as well as he listened to his daughter, face downturned.

"You go on and on about how miserable that life is, yet you keep going back to it!" Angela accused, her father's head calmly raising up toward her.

"Because I'm taking care of-"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Angela interrupted, angrily, "Father, I love you! If I had to run around in rags to have you around more, I'd have that in an instant! You can't help but return to the sea!"

She took a moment to await a reply that never came, her voice shaking more as she went on, "You never talk about how fun it can be, how free it is. You never talk about how you met mom out there or-"

"Angela…"

"No!" she stopped him, angrily, "I've heard enough from people down near the docks about you two! I know everything you refuse to tell me! About how you took her out on a lifeboat to propose because it was the only way you two could get some privacy, about how she remedied all those scars you used to have- I even know how she died! Yeah, you thought you could keep that from me, too, huh?"

"Angel-"

"I know you're afraid that you won't be able to protect me, father, but I know how to be self-sufficient; I'd be the best damn sailor out there- you wouldn't even have the chance to keep me from dy-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Jack roared, his fists slamming so hard against the table that Lena's entire body jumped in shock, her ears ringing from the massive crash of tableware falling all over the place.

Without moving otherwise, Lena's eyes jumped from one to the other, trying to figure out which of the two were more fragile at the moment. While Angela was certainly more visibly upset, her captain's eyes held a look that she hadn't seen before. His eyes shook in a stare of pure anger, yet also a profound anguish, like a wounded animal trying to protect its own injured paw.

Angela's entire willpower left her as his insides trembled due to sheer loudness of her father's outburst and subsequent crashing of his fists against the table. Her face went pale white, a sudden sense of flight rushing over her as she suddenly felt her legs move, her body dashing away from the dining room, quickly, leaving nothing behind but the rapid thumping of her feet along the stairs.

His head lowered again, Jack shut his eyes, though his fists remained atop the table, trembling still, as Lena sighed, gently scratching her neck as she stared up toward the ceiling, quietly speaking up, "Why won't you just let her go with?"

Jack didn't bother with a response, though he was visibly upset, staring vacantly down at the plate of food that Angela had prepared, his eyes turning up toward her own helping, knowing it wouldn't ever get eaten now. He shook his head as he took to his feet, slowly, grabbing his plate with two fingers.

"Just let me do the parenting, alight?" he muttered, lowly.

Lena sighed, getting up to follow him into the kitchen, "Y'know how many kids go and run off on their own, against their parents' wishes; just so recklessly take off under the cover of night, stop by their girlfriend's house for one last screw before breaking up with 'em, heading down to the docks and getting on the first ship they could step foot onto?"

Jack groaned, "You know I don't like when you talk about me."

"Well somebody's got to bring some sense into you- Do you even begin to realize how lucky you are? That girl has had every chance to run off on her own, but she so desperately wants to do so at her father's side. How many fathers would kill for that?" Lena concluded, shrugging as she crossed her arms, leaning against the entry to the kitchen.

Jack lowered his body over the sink as he rinsed off his plate, sighing, "You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not," Lena replied with a tilt of the head, "I do understand what it's like to not speak to my father for twenty years. That's just me, though."

His eyes narrowed as he watched the water run down the porcelain dish in his hand, Jack quietly stood there silently, until Lena finally decided she wasn't going to get anywhere else. She bounced herself up straight as she turned her back, heading through the dining room to leave, grabbing her sweater from behind her chair.

"I'll be ready for duty whenever you say, captain," she finished, somberly, before heading toward the front door to leave.

Jack listened to the shutting of the door as his thumb ran in circles along the top of the dish, thinking of himself at his daughter's age, how reckless he was. He loved the fire his daughter wielded, yet she handled it far more gracefully than he ever had; while his flames burnt everything he touched, Angela had always been able to so powerfully direct her influences, which probably made her that much formidable against a single parent.

He nodded with a slight grin, knowing that to be true- her mother would have locked her in a closet before allowing her out to sea. He couldn't help but think of his wife, how often they would disagree; tonight would have been one of those nights, leaving Jack to sulk, standing by the window, staring out into the city lights as he silently fumed, keeping his anger within him. She would have to be the one to swallow her pride, knowing he never would, and come up from behind him and simply wrap her arms around him, without a word, melting both of their frustrations away.

Any one thing could change his day for the worst, Jack thought; yet a single kiss from that woman, even a single touch, could change everything for the better. It only multiplied with Angela; he hated to be the one to break her heart. It was something he never wanted to do.

He sighed, lifting his face toward the ceiling, peering up into some unknown plane of existence, speaking to his wife, who couldn't ever reply to him, "Sorry, babe."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Angela laid on her bed, her pillow tightly held against the back of her head as her hands grew pale white from the force she was exerting to bring it down onto her. She had been crying, but as much as it pained her to think of, her tears had dried as her mind began wandering off to ideas of running away, tearing herself away from the ties that bound her to her father, though she know well enough that, as apprehensive as she was to go off with her father, it would only increase so exponentially without him.

The thought upset her, given their argument, but the two of them had been together for so many years that Angela had been unable to even really imagine much of a life without him. Sure, he would leave for long periods of time, but this home had been left with so much of his things that she could feel his presence in every room but her own.

For whatever reason, the biggest events of her life seemed to wait until he was home before they happened, as if the universe was watching them, trying its best to reward them, or, in some instances, punish Jack for leaving so frequently. Of course, Jack was home when Angela got into her first scuffle at school when she was a child, when the only hurricane to ever hit the small town hit, he was home to board up the windows and hold her tightly in the downstairs closet with her fifteen stuffed animals. When she screamed bloody murder after her first period, Jack was the one to assure her, nervously, before rushing pell-mell into town, retrieving Lena to bring back and explain such things to his daughter.

She rolled over onto her back, bringing her pillow with her as she covered her face with it, sighing into its softness as she calmed down further, suddenly feeling bad at how she'd brought up a topic she knew, very well, never to bring up.

A gentle knock came at the door, causing her to jump in surprise, though she remained silent, hidden under her pillow as her father's voice slowly passed through the wooden barrier, "We both know none of these doors have locks, so…"

That was as far as he went for a time, simply making his presence known. He sighed as he turned his body so that his back carefully fell to the wall, his body slouching down until he was sitting outside her door, his leg propped up to keep his arm airborne. His eyes remained on the door as he began to speak again, having no other choice with Angela not answering.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he began, almost lifelessly as his heart sank, "I-I've done that enough in my lifetime; I never wanted to do it to you."

He sat their quietly for a time before the tiniest of smirks crept along his face, "You know, I only ever really yelled at your mother one time, before we were married. She slapped me across the face and told me never to do it again, so I never did."

His smile fading, he went on, even quieter, almost as if speaking to himself, "She broke me in like a wild horse. She turned me from an aimless seapup to somebody with an actual life to live for. As seems to be a pattern with me, you've sort of become the next woman to change me for the better. You've taught me so much about patience and managing my frustrations and…"

He trailed off into thought, though Angela's voice finally emerged, offering him a finishing thought, "Because I'm stubborn, right?"

Jack grinned, "Pretty much. Just like your old man."

The two shared a comforting silence for a time, their kind voices being exchanged offering a sort of respite for them both. Finally, like a light at the end of a tunnel, Angela's voice went on, just barely breaking through the door as Jack sat there, quietly.

"Just come on in already," she murmured.

Rising to his feet with an aged groan, Jack managed, slowly opening up the creaky door and stepping into his daughter's room, saddened to see her beneath her pillow as though to burrow away from the earlier exchange. It only served to fill him with more shame at his shout as he sat at the side of her bed, holding his hands together as he leaned over his knees.

"I meant that in the best way possibly, by the way," he spoke, quickly clarifying himself, "About being stubborn. That'll serve you well. I won't have to worry about my little girl taking crap from anybody."

Angela slowly pulled the pillow down from her face, her eyes glaring challengingly at her father as he noticed, quickly adjusting his words, "Sorry; little woman?"

As she pulled her pillow back over her face, now embarrassed as she quickly realized how much more stupid that was; however, given the succinctness that had covered the two, she simply uttered a quick reply of, "That's better."

Jack couldn't help but give a weak chuckle as Angela pulled her pillow back down, watching him with a rather deep expression as her voice wavered alive once again, "How did mom die?"

Her father's face quickly dropped as Angela went on, assumingly, "I mean, I'd rather hear your version of it."

"Over some peddler's down by the docks?" he retorted, accusingly, though his faint smile diminished any ill will he might have presented.

Angela groaned, once again covering her face with the pillow, "Just- forget it."

His shoulders sinking as he turned away, Jack sighed, picking at his fingers as he began, quietly, "Well, I suppose you are old enough."

He readied himself as Angela's eyes peeked out from beneath her pillow, "I'd bought a few ships at that time, but this one was rather new to me. We'd come back from the West Indies through some nasty winds, so in order to make our deadlines, we had little choice but to move everything onto whatever ship we could find. In this business, reputation is everything, you know? Miss a single shipment and you hear it about it, forever."

"Well, I was against the ship your mother chose- an older clinker ship; those are better at twisting and turning through rough waters, and she must have been concerned with more storms. I've never been on such a vessel, and my argument was to get a smaller ship I knew, just make two trips- take whatever we had of the tighter deadlines and come back for the later ones. Anyway, we got the larger ship, took it out to sea, and sure enough, we were met with some nasty storms, though we made it pretty far along, all things considered.

"We were all holed up inside the ship, and after a loud clap of lightning- we put all the cargo on rollers, alright? That way, if they ever detached from the lines that bound them to the ship, we'd be able to hear them roll off once they hit the deck. That happened, and given the storm, we could even see the larges pallets of cargo just sliding up and down the deck."

Jack turned to his daughter, gravely, "Whoever told you this story… They said I ordered your mother to go out there, right?"

Angela knew it to be true, but with her father's voice having taken such a dark air, she hadn't the courage to actually nod her head. Her silence seemed to suffice as an answer in and of itself, as Jack looked back away, nodding slowly in understanding.

"Look, your mother was the best damn sailor I'd ever set eyes on. Any captain with her in their crew, they'd immediately think to send her to secure that cargo. I actually had second thoughts, and I was looking over the crew when she went on over to grab a coat. I tried to stop her; telling her how unimportant the cargo was, how we all needed to stay inside, but she refused to listen to me.

"She wasn't concerned about the cargo, or even the paycheck," Jack confided, quietly, "All she cared about was the crew. They'd expelled so much sweat and blood for us; she wasn't about to send them off without a full payment. So out she went, into the storm, carefully navigating the soggy deck while avoiding the pallets that were sliding everywhere. She managed to get one knot bolted down; all she needed to do was direct the pallet against one of the others, but-"

He suddenly grew quiet, shaking his head, "I honestly don't even know what happened. Her grip must have given way or something, but all of a sudden, she slipped off there, falling down between the two pallets as they, uh…"

His throat suddenly became dry as the scene ran through his mind- at least whatever parts of it he was able to recall after so many nursings he had taken from bottles of alcohol in the years afterwards. That was where he ended the story, simply releasing a sigh before patting his hands atop his knees in conclusion.

"Well, uh- that's about it," he shrugged, lowering his head, "Look, Angela; I know you're old enough. But know you should have some sort of understanding of why I don't want to lose anybody else. That woman was my life, and my heart and soul were taken to places a nary want to ever visit again. Now, you're my life."

Angela frowned sadly as she pushed herself up to her knees before reaching over to give her father a hug, "I know."

"But," Jack noted, reluctantly, "You said something earlier. You aren't your mother, and it's not fair to you for me to keep on thinking that."

He groaned, reaching up to rub his face, "This next trip we're taking is just a minor salesman's jump. If I quiz you a week from now, and you pass, maybe -MAYBE- I'll consider you coming along, alright?"

Angela was left speechless as she had pulled away from him in sheer awe of his words; all she could do was jump back over toward him, wrapping her arms around him, tightly as she began shouting aloud, "YES! YES, OF COURSE, FATHER!"

He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm as her jubilance caused his body to rock back and forth at the edge of the bed. Eventually, Angela fell away back onto her bed, happily hugging at her pillow as her legs kicked up into the air, excitedly, banging down onto the mattress as her father watched, still with a minute grin himself.

"I'll set the date for next weekend, then," he nodded, Angela's body coming to a stop as she expectantly stared up at him, "I'll tell your school and-"

"I already didn't register for next year," Angela interrupted, excitedly, jumping back up to hug her father from behind as his face began to contort, angrily, "You can yell at me tomorrow, okay?!"

He acquiesced, simply slowing his head in frustration, "Okay, fine. Make sure all your friends know; one of our more funny rules on the sea is that you break up with your girlfriends before sailing off for months at a time- I guess for you, that'd be any boyfriends I don't know about."

"A-About that," Angela muttered, unsurely, figuring her father should receive something in return for even allowing the idea of letting her come along pass through his mind, "I'm, uh- I'm not really into boys, you know…"

Jack turned his head over his shoulder as she'd begun, though as she'd concluded, he looked away, thinking for just a moment before shrugging, "I guess that makes a lot of sense, then; why you never had any guys over here."

He reached a hand up over his shoulder to gently pat her shoulder, "Well, if you have any girlfriends, then. Wow; I guess you're a lot more like me at that age than I thought."

Angela released a giggle as he turned his body toward her, allowing them both to share a hug as he finished speaking, "Sorry for keeping you-"

"Just hush and let me hug you," Angela concluded for him, the both of them now sharing some laughter as well.


	5. The Tale of Blacktalon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay! I took a short time off of work and ended up just lazing around, and streaming Persona 5, which pretty much got to the "holy crap!" point of the game, so streaming that sort of took up a lot of my free time xD
> 
> Fear not! I have no intentions of stopping my writing! Though, given my job in a meat department and it being Thanksgiving, I've been pretty much too sore to think about anything other than that, but definitely, after the holidays, I should be regularly updating!
> 
> Christmas is my favorite time of the year though, so expect a short story or two of just some cute little fluffy vignettes or something :D If you're ever interested in contacting me about my status on uploading (like if it's been a week and you're all, "is he dead?!") you can find me on Twitter posting stuff that's only funny to me :p
> 
> Happy reading, and Happy Holidays! :D

Jesse's eyes opened slowly, his old habits still not having exactly died off. Even the slightest pressure at his back managed to wake him up; it was an old skill he had managed to learn, or rather, was required to, on the ocean. He had used to work on prison ship, transporting criminals from one port to another, usually due to some extraditions, and when it came to being aboard a small wooden nation in and of itself, he had learned to sleep lightly, enough aware of his surrounds even in sleep to act if needed.

His life had changed radically since then, and yet, those habits hadn't. Even in this comfortable bed, wrapped up in warm, woolen blankets, he couldn't help but refuse those deepest of sleeps. He never dreamed, and constantly held a mask of tired darkness around his eyes, though it was hardly noticeable in the sunlight that accompanied ship decks.

His wife, Leslie, could see them, though. Especially when all they had to see one another was candlelight. She had always tried so hard to ease his exhaustion, and indeed, there had been a few nights where she had managed such things, keeping him wrapped up tightly in her arms as he slept. Though, there were some mornings where she couldn't help herself and reluctantly indulged in some fun.

Such was the scenario this morning, as the young light of day passed through their bedroom window as a soft veil of orange crossing their bed. She was awake, laying on her side as she watched her husband sleeping, though her hand mischievously slid along the thin sheets below them, gently pushing down into the mattress just beside Jesse's arm.

Suddenly, his eyes peeked open, staring restlessly up toward the ceiling before his head fell toward Leslie, his face turning into an unamused glare, "You did that on purpose."

She grinned, "I'm just having some fun is all."

Jesse turned over onto his stomach, burying his head into his pillow, "At the expense of my sleep."

"You know I always get like this before you go away," Leslie grinned, sliding closer toward him so that her fingers could sit atop the muscular curves of his back, two of them walking up the length up toward his broad shoulders, "I so take it for granted when you're home, it seems. Then, you know, it's all I can to tease you so that I can see all your cute sides that nobody ever gets to see."

"I have no cute sides," he grumbled into his pillow, his head just barely shaking in disagreement.

Leslie smiled faintly, though with a total air of contentedness, her fingers carefully crawling up and around the bones between in shoulder and neck, "No, I think you have a few of 'em."

She quickly dug a finger in between two bones, his body immediately shivering as he lifted himself from laying down, reaching up to grab at her wrist, gently, his face turning blank as she laid there, giggling, "That was pretty cute."

Jesse exhaled deeply, his grasp still at his lover's wrist, slowly eyeing her with a serious glare before pulling her even closer toward him, his body becoming more of a cave for her to fall into. She continued giggling as he let go of her, wrapping his arm around her as he leaned down onto her, his free hand reaching up to slowly brush the hair away from her face so that their eyes could play with one another.

"Speaking of sides," he spoke, quietly, "What are we going to do about this side of you?"

"What side of me?"

He lowered his head down into the nape of her neck, gently taking a kiss from her skin before breathing into her in reply, "This side that's so goddamn beautiful."

She laughed with a shallow air, her heart growing weak as she tried to reflect his words, though she knew very well that it would be bordering on impossible with his sturdy body wrapped around her. Suddenly, his lips began to yank at her skin, leaving her hands to rush up to his head as she began to laugh with a childish air, pushing him away.

"Stop! You're gonna leave a mark!" she giggled, her head instinctively falling into his due to the sensation.

He paused for a moment, looking up toward her, "I need to make sure everybody knows that you already belong to somebody."

Scoffing, Leslie rolled her eyes, "Like the name wasn't enough to ward people off?"

"You don't like using it though," he noted, sincerely.

"Only because it sounds silly. "Mrs. McCree"? Any more Ms and I'd be bagged up as a candy."

Jesse gave her another gentle kiss as he sucked at her skin, pulling away slowly, "I wish I could bag you up and keep you as my sweet."

"Cute side," she reminded, grinning, earning a disinterested glance from her husband.

She bit her lip as her husband returned to praising her body, her hand reaching up under his arm to grasp his shoulder, pulling his taut frame closer into her body as she whispered, "You know the kids will be up soon."

Jesse paused with his lips still against her sweet skin, a gentle, warm breeze running over her as he sighed, "I'm willing to accept that challenge."

Smirking, Leslie muttered in reply, "And where would that leave me?"

He pushed himself up so that she could see his rolling eyes, though he quickly gave a sort of grim smile as he contorted his body away toward the side of the mattress, pulling himself up so that he was sitting there, his body draped forward into his hand as he massaged his sleepless face. Leslie watched him sadly, reaching over to gently scratch at his back.

"I don't want to go," he quietly murmured, his face still buried in his hand.

His wife watched him, sadly, from the middle of the bed, "You never let superstitions bother you in the past."

He remained quiet for only a moment, "That was before I had you three."

Leslie's face dropped slightly as she listened to his words, her lips curving into a gentle frown as she looked down toward the mattress the two of them shared. She slowly pushed herself upward, pulling her knees just behind Jesse so that she was kneeling at his back, her arms reaching over his shoulders and wrapping around his neck in a tender, gentle embrace as she lowered her head onto his own.

"Well you have me around your neck as well," she smiled, hopefully, "And I'm not just some figment of anybody's imagination. I know you'll come back home; you always do."

Jesse sighed quietly as he reached up to his shoulder, massaging her arm as he spoke up, "You're too good to an old dog like me."

"Hey, your claims to age apply to me too," she laughed, quickly, "Watch it."

He could only smile as he spun his head around as best he could to receive her kiss, her arms wrapping tighter around him as the pull from his lips began to entrance her from his gentle sucking. Finally, the two jumped in surprise as a sudden shout came through the air from their children's room, all that way into theirs.

"Daddyyy!" "Daaaad!" came the cries as the two patted, Leslie giving her husband a teasing smirk.

"They did ask for you," she poked, sticking her tongue out at him.

Jesse groaned as he stood rubbing his face with both hands, "Must be because I'm leaving."

Leslie swiftly crawled onto her own side of the bed, sitting on its edge as the sheets fell away, leaving her nude as she reached down to the ground to recover her pajamas. She pulled her spoken shirt up to her, turning her head over her shoulder with a teasing grin as Jesse eyed her, boyishly.

"One good thing about you being gone," she opined, teasingly, as she put on her shirt, "You always stare at me like a high schooler with more hormones than brains."

Jesse grinned as he wonder around the bed, pulling his own shirt over him, "You've yet to lose any of your beauty since then."

She smugly eyed him, reminding, "I've borne three children for you; I'd have to think I've missed a-"

Out of nowhere, Jesse leaned before her, stealing a kiss from her mid-sentence before just pulling away, "No you haven't. Take your time; I'll get breakfast going."

His wife left with only her blushing, Jesse returned to his previous posture before turning to leave the room, closing the door behind him as a massive yawn left him, his hand reaching up to scratch his neck as he trudged down the hallway, the cheerful conversation of his children coming in louder and louder as he approached their room, slowly opening the door and peeking in, the two kids immediately, and excitedly, bouncing up and down on their beds.

"The floor's too cold, dad!" the younger of the two, Nathan, happily jeered.

"Yeah!" his sister, Heather, chided in, reaching her arms out toward her father, "You need to carry us!"

Jesse eyed them suspiciously, "Need to, huh? You two have never carried me to the table."

Heather smiled with a grin than knew she needed nothing more than such a thing to earn her father's acceptance, "We're nowhere near as strong as you, daddy! It took both of us just to carry home the sack of rice!"

"Yeah!" Nathan repeated with a less convincing whine, obviously having learned to follow his sister's lead when it came to such things.

Jesse sighed dramatically, his head falling backward as he entered the room, returning it proper as it shook, "Well, birthdays are coming up. Maybe this will count as one for each of you."

"Nooo!" "Noooo!" they both shouted in protest, though they remained fixed atop their beds as Jesse made his way over to Nathan, wrapping his arm around his stomach and picking him up like a small barrel, leaving the boy in a giggling fit as he left gravity momentarily.

Heather excited bounded atop her bed at the sight, and easily allowed her father to do the same to her with his other hand, her own laughter now joining her brother's as Jesse turned back toward the door, careful to keep either of them to hit the frame of the door.

"Now if you squirm so much, I'll drop you," Jesse reminded, both children's laughter making both of them quake, though neither of them stopped after his directive.

He carried them to the dining room, which sat adjacent to the kitchen, with a bar in between for serving. Jesse let both kids down, both of them rushing to their seats to relieve their feet from the cold floor beneath them, as their father walked into the kitchen, another yawn escaping him as he began preparing their breakfast.

"You look like lion when you do that daddy!" Nathan giggled as he saw his father's yawn.

Jesse eyed him from the kitchen, "Maybe I am, buddy."

Nathan laughed again at the thought, the two children chatting amongst themselves as they left their father to making breakfast. Jesse did so, dutifully enough, only allowing his attention to wander off once Leslie walked in a bit later, met with a thunderous pair of shouting from the children.

"Mom!" "Mommy!" went the two as she happily leaned over the table, giving both of them hugs and kisses.

"Daddy carried us in here!" Heather shouted, excitedly, waving her arms in front of herself as if she were flying, "It was so cool!"

Leslie smiled, crouching down at the end of the table between the two, "Oh really? He didn't drop you again, did he?"

Jesse's eyes rolled from behind the bar, "That's what happens to squirming children."

His wife shot him a wry grin as Heather laughed innocently, Leslie pushing herself back up to her feet before entering the kitchen, standing beside Jesse and he cooked everybody's breakfast, hungrily watching his spatula stirring up the ingredients in the pan. She pushed her weight against him affectionately before pulling away, opening up their cooler and pulling out a container of cookie dough, a tradition for the family before their patriarch would leave on another voyage.

Leslie happily pulled out a small cube and happily took out a bite, earning Jesse's ire, "You're gonna get sick."

She only stuck her tongue out at him before finishing the piece in her hand, leaving Jesse only to shake his head with as much of a grin as he would ever allow, "I swear, you're such a child."

"Am not," she replied, dispassionately, as she returned the container to their cooler, quickly returning to her husband's side.

"You certainly are," Jesse accused, again, "You get out pumpkins to carve faster than the kids do."

Heather's young voice burst through the air, "We're carving pumpkins?!"

"Not for a few more months, dear," Leslie replied alongside a droll look at her husband, "I know it's what you love about me."

Jesse easily nodded, wrapping an arm around her to hug her from his side, "You bring so much life here that I don't have out at sea. I'd feel shallow if it was just your body I ran home to."

Leslie managed an elbow to dig into his shoulder as she giggled, her husband pushing her away in retaliation, "Now go sit down; I'll bring it out when it's done."

She returned a sort of daring glare above a mischievous smirk, though after Jesse had leaned over to kiss her forehead, she acquiesced and turned to round the bar, taking her seat with their children as Jesse finished up breakfast. He heard their cheerful speech as his eyes slowed to a narrow sight as he peered down at the swirl of egg, sausage, and bacon, the warmth of his family, the sights, sounds, the smell of his wife in the morning, his daughter's begging stare, his son's improbable ability to crack an unknowing joke, leaving even his father with a chuckle.

He reached up, grasping at the nape of his neck, almost lifelessly. He had grown to hate having to go off, away from his family, though the thought inevitably crossed his mind that this next trip could, potentially, turn out to be his la-

"Daddy! Tell a story!" Heather goaded, though after a quick snap of her mother's fingers, the girl finished properly, "Please!"

Her chiming voice broke Jesse from his reverie, shaking his head to clear his mind, "O-Oh, yeah. I don't know; what do you two wanna-"

"Blacktalon! Blacktalon!" Nathan chanted, though his sister inevitably joined in, "Blacktalon! Black-!"

"Okay, okay," Jesse nodded in acceptance as he began plating their meal, his eyes peering up toward the table to find even his wife's eyes following him in anticipation, "Well, he wasn't always 'Blacktalon'. Though his name has been lost to time, he was once a man, or woman- nobody who has encountered this person has lived to tell which one."

Clearly having told the story many times before, Jesse had developed a sort of dramatic tone as he spoke, having learned which parts excited, frightened, or shocked the children. He slowly carried the plates around the bar, lowering them toward the table as he leaned over toward Nathan, dangerously close to the side of his head.

"He could even be just a child," Jesse muttered, hauntingly, "Nobody knows…"

Nathan giggled, shaking his head rapidly, "It's not me, dad!"

Jesse gave him an unsure frown as he pulled away, walking back for everybody's drinks as he continued the story, "Whatever the case, Blacktalon was just like any other sailor back before he turned to darkness. Some might say he was a bit too able to fit in… It made him good at concealing himself in a crowd; good at being…dangerous…"

Returning with two pairs of glass bottles of milk, Jesse sat them atop the table, standing behind Leslie before leaning forward, wrapping his arms around her neck, "One day, he found himself a bride, however; just like how I found your mother."

"Maybe you're Blacktalon!" Heather shouted, giddily, earning her father's noncommittal stare.

Jesse eyed her, his lips curling into a sinister grin as his hand suddenly shot forward, ahead of his wife's face, as a knife suddenly shot out from its chamber. The two children immediately jumped in surprise, but ultimately cheered between excited laughter, both of them having grown an affinity for their father demonstrating such skill. Try as they might, neither of them could tame his pocket-knife in such a way; Nathan had even accidentally thrown it into a vase one day.

Jesse gave a soft chuckle as he returned his knife to his pocket, moving on, "Blacktalon and his bride lived a happy life out at sea, but one day, the ocean stole her from him. He was so sad that he made it his mission to find heaven on earth, so that he could find her in death."

"However, when he found heaven on earth, he was given a choice, for one life cannot simply be returned to its dead body. He could have the love of his life back…if he gave up his own body."

Jesse stood up, running his arms along his wife's shoulders before raising a hand into the air, a single finger raised, dramatically, "In an instant, he agreed; and while heaven honored his agreement, love does not adhere to such concrete dealings. The love of his life returned, but upon seeing Blacktalon's deformed, body-less state, she left him, in fear, never to be seen by him again."

The children still managed to become silent as he told this portion of the story, despite having heard it repeatedly in their lives. Heather eyed him gravely, old enough to understand more and more what the story was telling, while Nathan was simply dumbfounded by the tone his father conveyed.

Heather quietly spoke up, "Would you give up your-"

"In a heartbeat," Jesse interrupted, easily, reaching down to grasp his wife's shoulder, "One of the morals of the story, after all, is to love somebody not only for their physical attributes. I would love your mother even if she were some smoky vapor, or a vial of sand."

He patted her shoulder as he boyishly muttered along, "I could carry her everywhere I went, in that case."

"Go on! Go on!" Nathan goaded, bored by his father's sudden, "gross" behavior.

"Well, there's the next lesson of the story," Jesse reminded, raising his hand once again with a second finger extended, "Left without a body, Blacktalon simply wandered the earth, aimlessly, searching for his love. Without a body, he no longer was given relief from that pain, and it endlessly gnaws at his soul in an eternal torture."

His lips contorted, pulling inward as he thought, as if a sudden thought came to him, surprisingly, given his many re-tellings of the tale, "As scary as death may seem, there's nothing scarier than the absence of death. Without that, you have nothing to fight to keep. You simply…wallow, with no hope of an ending to your story."

Both of the children had begun exchanging confused glances at one another, but Leslie's head had slowly lowered as her hand reached back behind her, grabbing on to whatever part of her husband's body that she could, which happened to be his leg, though he slowly returned his hand to her shoulder to ease her thoughts.

"Anyway, that's what I take from it. You could get a different viewpoint from each different person telling it," Jesse finished, patting Leslie's shoulder before leaving her side, heading toward his chair, "Who's hungry?"

"I am!" "ME!"

Jesse nodded approvingly as he passed out the plates, giving Leslie a reassuring glance, though her stare back at him was one of concern.


	6. Coming Aboard the Splitstream!

Jack Morrison grunted subtly as he lifted a large bag out from the back of a cart, bringing the weight of the majority of his supplies with only outstretched arms before carefully lowering it to the ground, sighing in relief. He tipped the driver and turned back to his duffel bag, eyeing the regal stern side of his ship. Near its peak sat the name of his own vessel, Splitstream; the mass of wooden and metal having served him well and for longer than any human or animal.

He sighed as he usually did upon viewing the massive trade ship after being on leave for some time, slowly turning to eye the collection of men who were carrying crates of supplies up a ramp and onto the ship, with different managers keeping tabs of their work. Jack lifted up his bag again and strapped it atop his shoulder, bearing the weight easier now, as he made his way toward the docks, making sure to avoid the quickly running carts going to and fro along the port. He kept an eye out for Lena, who was to bring Angela here already to give her a crash course on port-side etiquette, quickly noticing the two as they both entered his view.

"Father!" Angela shouted happily, rushing toward him and leaping into a hug, "It's so magnificent here! Everybody speaks a different language, there are so many cool wares! I can't believe it took you this long to bring me along!"

Jack cleared his throat, eyeing Lena as she grinned nervously, presenting his daughter to him with an outstretched arm as the captain explained, "My third-mate regaling grandiose tales to my daughter, making this life seem far more enticing than it truly is might have something to do with it."

Lena frowned, crossing her arms, "Oh, come on; it wasn't nearly that bad. Not my fault if you're old and frail and disillusioned with a life I happen to continue to be lured to."

Angela turned toward Lena with shock in her eyes, horrified by how she'd taken to speaking to her father, though Jack mere shook his head, smirking, "I'm not frail enough to cross your name off the charter."

Reaching her elbow out to playfully hit Angela's arm, Lena grinned happily, "You're dad's actually cool when he's around his ship. Don't be too surprised."

"Maybe too cool," came a male voice from behind the three of them, the group turning to find the bazaar from earlier, Larry Franklin, who'd begun to laugh as he patted Jack's shoulder heartily, "I was scouring this dock for twenty minutes trying to catch you before you left! There's the little issue of the primage, I believe, that we have yet to settle."

Jack's shoulders sagged dishearteningly, "Good friend, you know I wouldn't allow anything to-"

"Nonsense!" Larry shouted, his rotund frame shaking as he laughed with great enthusiasm, bringing a small satchel from his pocket and handing it to Captain Morrison, who only sighed as he dejectedly took it from him, "If you come up across a storm, I'd like to know your payment isn't on your mind."

Jack's lips tugged in unamusement, "Maybe for any new clients, but certainly not for you, good friend. Thank you."

Larry smiled widely as he nodded in reply, turning to the two women and lifting his wide-grinned hat as he excused himself, "Ladies. You all have a great day."

Unable to resist, Angela's ears twitched as her father's hand fell to his side, the satchel in his hand suddenly jingling with the twinkle of coins, "What's primage, exactly?"

Jack's head turned toward her slowly as he eyed her, his third mate quickly coming to his daughter's defense, "Oh c'mon, that's a commerce term, she had no reason to know it."

Shoving the satchel into his pocket, Jack sighed as if regretting this decision already, though he crossed his arms, explaining to his daughter attentively, "Basically it's a payment made to the ship for assurance that their cargo will be handled with care for the duration of the trip. Beyond that, it's up to personal practice; I tend to distribute it amongst the crew, but some captains keep it."

"Hear that?" Lena chimed, wrapping an arm around Angela's shoulders and pulling her close, "You might even get paid for this trip!"

Angela rolled her eyes, turning to Lena with sarcastic intent, "He's just gonna say that giving me life was-"

"Giving my daughter life was payment enough," Jack muttered absently as he looked down the list he'd scribbled out on a scrappy piece of paper, "That about settles any and all matters of the fiscal nature. I just have to tell the deckhands we'll be shoving off soon, so you two get aboard. Lena, I'm sure you'll show her around and introduce her to the crew?"

Lena's arm shot upward, her flat hand smacking against her forehead with a vigorous, "AYE AYE, CAP'N!"

With a nervous sort of scoff, Jack turned his head to ascertain whether or not anybody was peering their way as a result of the outburst, groaning before waving the two off, "Just go on, alright? I'd much rather not cause a scene."

"YES SIR!" Angela cried out in emulation of Lena, saluting herself as the third mate screwed a massive smirk up her chin at her protégée's work.

Jack buried his face into a hand, cursing under his breath as he spun around, "Bad influence. Bad influence; fuck…"

Lena and Angela shared light-hearted giggles as the older of the two led the way toward the boarding ramp that led straight of the dock and onto the large ship, the Splitstream, "Y'know, this puppy got its name because it cruised so fast in its heyday that it tore streams right through the land itself!"

Skeptically eyeing the mate, Angela grumbled in agreement as the whimsical lookout went on, "Oh! and the mast was Zeus' comforter that fell from the heavens. or so they say, anyway."

"Who are they?" Angela questioned teasingly.

Lena shrugged, "I suppose just the Oxtons. Anywho, welcome aboard!"

Angela walked out onto the wooden deck of the Splitstream, having only been upon its mighty frame at rare intervals in her life. She always would stare out into the ocean, dreaming of remaining upon the craft and cruising around the globe, though her excitement was always shared by her father. Now, knowing she was to come along, a breath of adventure stride across her heart, a smile stretching over her face as she clutched the top of her hat with the wind kicking up. She rushed to the railing of the ship, leaning out over the ocean with a grin as wide as the brim of her straw hat, staring off onto the horizon.

"Hey now, you're gonna be seeing plenty of that on the trip," Lena warned warmly as she grabbed Angela's shoulder, pulling her away and along toward the interior of the ship, "Now, you're gonna need to know the crew, so I'll show you around, okay? This baby is a great ship, with plenty of room to keep up with all the latest advancements. It's still kinda clunky, but Cap'n went all out on a radio transmitter, our cannons are all state of the art- and he even made sure to go all out on the crew manning them both. We've got the best of the best; that's why your dad transports so much- everybody knows he delivers."

With a subdued look of awe on her face, Angela gasped lightly, "Wow… I guess I never noticed just how much effort he put into all this. I mean, I knew it was his whole life but still."

"After his wife died, I dunno, it seemed like he started replacing her with the ship, y'know? Going out of his way to make it 110%, it was really his way of either atoning or simply his way of paying tribute to her. That's what I've always figured, anyway; I've never asked," Lena frowned, "I think he'd have me on rudder duty if I did so."

If her words were true, Angela thought, it would make sense. Though it stung a bit to know her father had fought so vehemently to keep her away from this project of a vessel that was so close to his heart. She kept silent as Lena led her down into the interior, down a collection of stairs that led into a fork, the right side whirling around more stairs into the rest of the innards of the Splitstream, while the left was simply an open door leading into what appeared to be a closet with a gigantic machine erected against one entire wall.

"Wow," Angela muttered in shock, "Look at that."

Lena grinned proudly, "That's the radio. Neat, huh? Not that many ships have it, but a lot of ports do- Cap'n uses it to save time. He can communicate with the port to see if they have any orders pending or if his cargo is ready to be brought in. Far better than the hassle of entering port and getting caught in the sea traffic."

The two entered the closet-sized room, with Lena pointing out the machine's major part with quite the rudimentary understanding, "Radio waves come on a bunch of different strands, I think he called 'em, so basically this thing has these few hundred plugs, and if we don't know the frequency, we literally have to check each and every one until we find it."

She pulled out a lengthy plug that wound up to a different console that held a thick pair of headphones, "Our telecommunications expert sits here and monitors it all. If you watch her work, by george, she's like a bat out of hell. Like I said, Cap'n gets the best- she's goes through strands in seconds!"

"Bands…" came a subdued voice from behind the two of them, a short, rather girlish woman standing there with a droll expression, apparently unenthused by Lena's explanation, "They're called bands. Those sockets each pick up band-widths."

She eyed Angela with a critiquing face, "Don't let her poison you."

"Pfft! Poison," Lena repeated with a laugh, "Hana, I don't know the first thing about venomous snakes."

The telecommunications expert shot a pithy glare toward her before squeezing between the two, pulling a stool out from beneath the desk as she shook her head in disbelief, cursing beneath her breath, "Third mate, huh? Ugh…"

She started organizing the desk that sat in front of the large machine, speaking up without turning toward the two, "Who're you?"

"I'm, uh, Angela. The captain's daughter."

"Uh huh. You look like him," the radio girl muttered, "I'm Hana. Hana Song. I sit here and monitor anything coming over the band from any ports, or if we happen to come across another ship with radio s well. That's still pretty rare though."

Angela nodded, "Song? You're not from around here, huh?"

"No-"

"Nope!" Lena interrupted with a vigorous shout, "Hana comes straight from Korea! Cap'n spent an arm and a leg to get over there and find her, and even then, he had to bend over backwards to get her to join the crew! What was it, he had to bring her aboard, show her the equipment she'd be working with, and even then, didn't he have to do something else before you'd agree?"

A childishly sort of sinister smirk appeared across Hana's face, "Let's just say I wasn't interest in his money when it came to the form of payment…"

She snickered to herself as she crouched down below the desk, allowing Angela to reveal a concerned look toward Lena, who merely shrugged in reply, grabbing her arm and pulling her along, leaving Hana with a sharp, "Well, fight the good fight, Hana! I'm gonna keep showing Ms. Cap'n around."

Still snickering, Hana replied with a gravelly sort of voice, "Yes, we will fight the good fight… Especially after our shipment from Vancouver…"

Hana's eyes glazed over, though the spell was broken by Lena, who asked, "Is Junkie here yet?"

"Yes, probably making love to one of the cannons down there or whatever it is he does; god only knows," Hana replied, oblivious to her own behavior which seemed just as troll-like.

Angela whipped her head around, "Cannons?! I thought father only dealt with trade."

"Well yeah!" Lena replied as the two crossed to the other end of the fork, working their way down into the hull of the ship, "But you've got pirate shit, rival traders vying for fiscal superiority. You think your dad made it to the top just because this thing is fast? Anyone can be quick on the seas; but only the best can destroy other ships trying to take them out. He's fast, and he gets cargo around in one piece. That's where the money is."

Angela nodded only slightly, slightly perturbed by her own naïvety as the two pressed on, Lena going on, "Cap'n's got the best cannons, and a bloody insane cannoneer to man them. Seriously, I've seen his arse crawl into the guns for a nap before- he lives and breathes the things."

"'ey!" came an accented shout from the large cannon room below, "This freak c'n still 'ear, ya know! AND 'e stlll has feelin's too, right."

Lena grinned, leaning back mid-stride to whisper into Angela's ear, "This guy's great."

She quickly returned with a shout of her own, "C'mon, I was just setting the stage for the Cap'n's daughter, Junkie. She just needs to know what's up before she wanders in on you cleaning these things."

"'ey! Not a single time 'ave these pups misfired! Why d'you think that is, eh? You gotta care for 'em s'though they were ya own kidders; then they'll take care a'- Hold up, ya said Cap's daughtah?!"

A massive CRASH reverberated through the wooden walls of the ship, sending a nervous shiver through Angela's spine as more blasts of a ruckus pierced the air, leading to a loud pitter-patter of feet clacked along the planked floor, a man spinning round the corner that gave Angela a shock. She recoiled as she saw the scraggly hair of the man going all over the place, dark patches of burned skin everywhere he was exposed, and finally a wooden peg leg making up one of his limbs. He smiled crazily as he offered his two hands, as if ready to pay her hand as they shared a handshake, an excited voice escaping him.

"Well hooley dooley! If it ain't my Angie in the flesh!"

While she'd offered her a hand, Angela yanked it back in shock, "M-M-My Angie?!"

'Junkie' cackled with a start, slapping his peg leg with good humor before grabbing his stomach to ease the tremors of laughter, "My pardon, shiela! Morris'n caught onta my namin' the cannons 'n 'e asked ta save one of 'em ta be named afta' you."

He sidled up toward Angela and pointed high to guide her vision through the remaining stairway and cross beams, "See inna back there? The pride o' the Splitstream! That baby, she spits out twenty rounds a' minute unda my care; but I 'ssure ya, I put her through tha paces!"

Met with a tremendous moment of culture shock, Angela could only nod with feigned fascination, sending 'Junkie' into a fierce laugh at her supposed praise.

"Let's just hope ya don't have 'er knack at bein' a powder keg!" he joked further, turning away to dash back around the corner, "Gotta get tha winch ready, Len! See ya portside!"

"Okay!" Lena shouted back with a prominent smile, her arms at her sides in akimbo as she proudly turned toward Angela with a chuckle, "I told ya he was awesome, didn't I!"

Not wanting to be heard, Angela only gave a weak sort of smile as she silently began to creep back up the stairs, Lena chuckling as she followed along, "I know, I know. We're a motley crew of insane people, but that just means you can do whatever suits your fancy and still not be the odd-man out. There's always someone weirder…usually Junkrat down there, but hey. The man knows his way around a cannon; you'll never find a more loyal shiphand this side of the hemisphere."

The two stepped up the creaking steps of the staircase back above deck, Angela already realizing how dark and musty is was as compared to the bright outdoors. She took a deep breath, bending backwards to stretch, raising her arms high up into the sky with a smile.

"They all seem fine so far," she admitted, still holding onto a grin, "Trust me, after you've had five friends in this city, you've pretty much befriended everybody- there's little here that broadens anybody beyond their basic scope, so everybody just sorta, I don't know, they don't 'grow', I guess, into different people. They all just stop at some point, like the city is so mundane it chokes their individuality."

Lena shrugged, "Reminds me of home, really. I haven't spoken to my family in years, so this band of nuts sorta has become my family. That's one of the big things Cap'n preaches."

She immediately stood at attention, throwing a fist out in front of her as though awaiting a fist bump, suddenly shouting out in a voice impersonating Captain Morrison, "Family is key! Number one! No holds barred! If ya ain't got shipmates you can trust, you ain't got much! Lena, quit hoggin' the jerky! We nearly ran ashore!"

Breaking the mood with a sudden cackle, Lena's torso fell forward as she wrapped her arms around in stomach as her laughter pained her, her feet swaying her to and fro as her light voice carried laughter through the air like a song. Angela could only continue to watch with amused confusion, her face twisting as such while her hand held her straw hat to her head as the wind carried along.

"Seems like the opposite of whatever he had me doing, staying at home all the time by myself," she shrugged, "Oh well. He has to be turning over a new leaf or something."

Bowing her head as if humoring Lena's own good humor, Angela proclaimed with a neutral voice, "I will give my father the benefit of the doubt for the time being. Maybe he had some scheme going on that he didn't want me privy to or whatever."

"That's the spirit!" Lena answered jovially, "On the high seas, we cease to be who we are on the land. Out there, there ain't nothing but each other, and there's nothin' quite like making yourself into a new person when we pass onto the space where no nation resides."

Her voice making it sound so whimsical, Angela smiled as she stared up into the sky with deepening eyes, "I guess you're right. It's an adventure! I shouldn't be worrying about fath- AH!"

A strong gust of wind suddenly burst past her, carrying her favorite hat away and into the wind. Angela's eyes went wide, her body yanking itself forward as she chased it down port side, her feet stomping in a mad dash, Lena joining the sprint as she realized what had happened. The hat blew back and forth, toward the bow, the wind threatening to sail it out toward the ocean as Angela's face darkened at the thought.

Suddenly, a WHOOSH blew past Angela, the force of a body blazing right beside her causing her body to fall off balance, sending her falling onto the wood below, her head keeping steady to watch as a man glided across the deck, his feet slipping and sliding atop two rags, his hand outstretched as his thick bolts of hair flapped in the breeze behind him.

"Yo! I got it!" he shouted with enthusiasm, finding the hat just beyond his reach, "Lucio's my name, skatin's my-!"

Just in front of him, a hatch blew open as Junkrat's head popped out, the wooden barrier stopping Lucio in his tracks, the man going sideways, his lungs bursting as he crashed into the half-high wall as his midsection barreled over the thick hull door, Junkrat obliviously crying out toward Lena's sprinting form, "I got the winch cookin' now, shiela!"

Lucio's slumped body rolled off the trap door that led into the hull, sending him to the deck as Lena vaulted over his limp body, making a last ditch grasp as she leapt from the ship, grabbing ahold of a mast line with her other hand while the just managed to clutch the slightest brim of the hat.

"Gotcha-! Whoa!"

At the apex of the line's swing, Lena went flying back toward the side of the ship, her teeth barred in worry as she went careening into the vessel with a loud THUD, seeming to shake the entire Splitstream as she hung there aquiver. She slowly felt herself being lugged up back onto deck, though she hadn't the strength to raise her head.

Meanwhile, Angela bent down to help Lucio to his feet, the deckhand still groaning painfully as he shot a stare toward the trap door, "Gee, thanks, J! Couldn't choose a worse time, could ya?!"

Junkrat's head hopped back out from the hull with a steely look, "Yah shouldn't be runnin' 'round tha deck 'n tha first place! I swear, it's like I'm tha only one 'ere sometimes, gee willickers!"

He grabbed the door in the floor and slammed it shut as he fell back into the ship, Lucio grumbling to himself as he kicked the two thick rags up into the air, snatching them with his hand as they fluttered in place, hanging them from an outstretched arm as he turned toward the new crewman with a welcoming smile, offering his free hand.

"Now I'd recognize that face anywhere; you must be the Captain's daughter, huh?" he asked with narrowed eyes, studying her face.

Angela nearly blushed as she raised an open hand to her face, "O-Oh, uh, d-do I really look like him that much..?"

"Pfft," Lucio scoffed with a laugh, "No, he won't stop talking about you on our voyages. I have a kid of my own, so he and I will chat about our families. We'll exchange photographs and stuff, so that's where I've seen ya from."

With a pale face, Angela's expression dropped worriedly, thinking back to the one and only photograph she'd ever been in, turning toward her father, who was at the edge of the ship pulling Lena back aboard, "You showed him that?!"

Jack peered over her shoulder with a confused look, though Lucio only chuckled as he played with one of his massive strands of hair, "Oh yeah, that was the picture where you were stomping up toward the camera with 'n angry look on your face, huh?"

"You were showing that off?! I can't believe- that was so embarrassing!" Angela plead to her father as Lena slumped over the railing and flopped down onto the deck with Angela's hat still clutched in her hand, her body like a lifeless fish.

"You're my beautiful little girl; you think I'm not proud to show that off?" he spoke evenly, as though not anywhere understanding his daughter's perturbed attitude.

In defeat, Angela lowered her head helplessly, gradually returning to normal as she recalled her manners, finally shaking Lucio's hand, "Sorry. I'm Angela."

"Lucio," he grinned happily, giving a thumbs up with his other hand, the two rags fluttering behind his arm, "The best deckhand in the Pacific! I do a little bit of everything around here, but most of my duty is down in the mess whipping up meals that makes all these people weep. You have no idea how creative you gotta be when you've got a fish and some random herbs snatched up from some island you just happened to pass along on the route; it's a blast!"

The deckhand turned as he lost himself in thought, eyeing the Captain as Jack approached the two, "Ya know, I ain't once made the captain cry at a meal, now that I think about it."

"You won't," Angela spoke with twisted lips, "I've been living with him for like twenty years and he hasn't once showed anything in the way of deep emotion."

Her father smirked proudly at her words, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he turned to Lucio, "Thanks for the extra layer of clean you doled out on deck. Angela, your hat."

He handed the hat to his daughter, who accepted it with a smile, returning it to her hand and remembering to hold it down, "I don't know what I'd do without this thing. I'll tell Lena thanks when she, uh, wakes up."

"Do that," Jack nodded appreciatively, "As long as my third mate is out, I suppose I have to let everybody know we're shoving off. Cargo's on and all secure and accounted for. We make for San Francisco to pick up Jesse before heading up north."

"Aye aye!" Lucio shouted.

Jack turned to his daughter with an expectant grin, remaining silent as she eyed him curiously for just a moment before she frowned, groaning quietly as she muttered, "Aye aye…"

"'Aye aye' what?" Jack asked in a teasing sort of tone, earning a stare from his daughter.

"Aye aye…captain," Angela complained.

Lucio could only just hide a chuckle with a hand as he turned away, amused by the scene before him.


	7. Deckhanding and Authoritative Handling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reader over on FF asked about the time period, and I really should have clarified the anachronisms I've already described. I don't have a specific time period in mind, except for the obvious time of pirates and wooden ships being the main method of transporting goods across oceans. Obviously the biggest anachronism is Hana's use of a primitive radio of sorts, which is highly inappropriate for a historical treatise, but for a fun story, it just seemed an appropriate sort of situation to place into to keep her in-game traits involved. Of course, the inclusion of primitive radio is not just there to give her something to do- as far as my story planning goes, as of now, everybody's skills will be required at critical points, so while my anachronisms are just that, they're meant to serve a greater story purpose :D
> 
> I'm very happy to see that people are enjoying this story! I love the feedback, and as demonstrated above, it gives me a chance to better explain things for you guys :D

With the sloshing sort of slamming that accompanied Lena's deckbrush hitting the wooden slats below, her face slid into a dissatisfied frown as she threw her arms out, sending the brush in patterned lengths as suds trailed about. For all she enjoyed about being aboard the Splitstream, Captain Morrison's methods of building and maintaining a group cohesion often frustrated her. Fresh off the dock and they were already swabbing the deck, leaving her with inaudible growls as her bare feet clattered along in time with her arm's movements as she turned her head toward the others, Angela appearing to be having a ball of a time as she happily danced with her capris yanked up to her knees, her feet splashing the sudsy water about as she laughed.

"What fun!" Angela exclaimed with a quick spin of her head toward her father, "I can't believe you kept me from this!"

Jack grinned as he shook his head, his own pants rolled up as he partook in the cleaning himself, "Look around, dear. The feeling won't last."

Sure enough, Angela peered around to the others, first meeting Lena's gloomy face before noticing Hana's and Junkrat's unhappy faces. Lucia seemed to be the only one enjoying himself, though he was also spinning along with rags tied to his feet, making the most of this team-building exercise. Angela shrugged with a smile as she held her brush between her arm and side, hiking up her pants before wielding the broom once again with a fierce look.

"Welp, as long as I'm enjoying it, I might as well! Hey, Lucio, I'll race ya!"

The deckhand eyed her from over his shoulder, offering a scoffing sort of glance as he replied, "Really? You know I've outraced kangaroos and lions all at once, right?"

"He's lying," Hana muttered without looking up from her work.

Angela grinned, "Sure! Win or lose, this is fun! Just stopping and sliding- if I did this at home, father would have me drawn and quartered."

The lack of a response from the Captain prompted Angela to give a unwieldy sort of grin at such teasing, though she was quick to ready her self as Lucio slid around to her side, his broom held out as he directed her, "Alright; three laps around the deck, brushes down at all times, first to grab Bastion wins."

A collectivize groan arose from the crew as Angela turned her head to them, confused, quickly asking, "Wait, Bastion?"

Lena eyed the two as she stood up, "C'mon, hasn't that poor bird been through enough?"

"Oh, you know he loves it!" Lucio replied happily, pointing up toward the bow of the ship toward a falcon-shaped object hugging the wooden edge with its claws, "There he is. I picked him up while we were in Singapore a few years ago. Poor thing's wings were clipped so nobody would take him, so I-"

"That things alive?!" Angela shouted out in near terror, "I've walked past it, like, eight times! I thought it was a statue!"

Junkrat let loose a high pitched giggle as he sloshed his brush along the deck, Lucio chuckling in unison before crossing his arms proudly, "Nah, Bastion's just an odd bird. Literally. He loves playing, though; first to catch him after three laps wins, okay?"

"O-Okay," Angela's words stumbled as she crouched to ready herself, Lucio counting down enthusiastically before the two took off along the slippery surface of the ship, Angela quickly getting caught in the excitement and grinning competitively as she did her best to steady herself on her bare feet.

Jack stood upright and watched pleasantly, enjoying the sight of his daughter's fun as Hana approached him, her eyes lowered unhappily as she spun her broom to her side, voicing displeasure, "Captain, between splinters and our hard work scrapping, I'm none too pleased to be a witness to this."

"Ah, these boards are sanded every time she goes in for maintenance," Jack shrugged with a smile, "And this cleaning was just to get Angela more acquainted with you all and used to some of the work around here. She seems to be taking to our deckhand well enough, so I'd say mission accomplished."

Seemingly annoyed, Hana bit her lip before replying, "Yes… Work…"

Jack chuckled, turning an instructive glance down toward his communications officer, "Don't worry. Given my daughter's propensity for merriment and general troublemaking, I'm sure you two will find something to have fun over instead of work."

Hana frowned as Angela belted around the deck for the third time, racing for the stationary bird that sat as still as could be, peering out into the vast sea until the loud bursting of stomping footsteps broke its concentration. Bastion's feathered head suddenly whipped around, his eyes blowing wide at the sight of Angela reaching out to him with Lucio right behind her.

"CAAAAWAWAWAAA!" he crowed with a massive pitch, scurrying off the edge and waddling along the perimeter of the deck with his wings outstretch, desperately trying to escape as Angela and Lucio both dove toward him, their bodies hitting the wooden deck below as they slid along, their heads thumping into the siding with a weak clunk.

They turned up their heads to find Lena clutching the horrified falcon in her arms, holding it against herself carefully as his eyes swirled, a frown crossing her, "Totally mean, ya know!"

"Oh, he's having a blast! Just look at him!" Lucio pleaded as he rose to his feet, pulling his shirt down as the sudsy water had it clinging to him.

Junkrat cackled happily, "Havin' a blast a'right! If 'e thinks THAT'S fun, tha bird should try my gauntlet! I've always wanted ya use 'im fer it!"

"Uh, no!" Lena answered before Lucio could say otherwise, dropping her head to examine the bird with saddened eyes, "Poor thing. Just look at how-"

Bastion turned his head sneakily so, hidden behind Lena's arms, giving her something of a mischievous glance as he continued feigning fright in order to prevent either of the competitors to win. Lena's brow dropped in a second, angrily, at the realization of being used, by a bird no less.

"Why you little…" she muttered quietly, her head jumping back up as Angela leapt at her, arm outstretched.

"First one to touch-!" she cried out before Lena instinctively recoiled, turning to dash around the deck as Lucio followed, leading to the third mate being corralled around as Bastion snuggled in, not having to bother with wearing out his aging frame, preferring to have Lena Oxton do it for him.

Hana groaned as her sense of professionalism waxed upon her mind, burying her face into an open hand as she heard Junkrat crying out excitedly, almost giddily, "Go on! Get 'im! Get 'im!"

The comms officer turned to where Captain Morrison had been standing, only to find him having disappeared, her body turning gradually until she found him back toward the hold, grabbing a small trumpet that hung from a rope tied to a nail, raising it to his lips before blowing a sickly off-key note that immediately brought everybody to attention, Angela and Lucio sliding to a stop beside Lena, and even Bastion hopping out from his savior's arms and standing with his attention of the Captain.

"Alright," Jack nodded with a wry sort of grin, "Now I'm all for having a good time. We're all going to be out on the water for a few months, and we'll need to keep our spirits up. But we're going to pace ourselves this voyage, right? We have a new crewman in my daughter, and I want her to learn how everything works around here."

He reached down to adjust his cuffs as he spoke, "Now, just so Angela knows, we haven't begun our trip yet, right?"

"Uh, no," Angela answered, her arms crossed in thought, "We're still sailing along land over there."

Jack nodded affirmatively, "Exactly. We're just headed to San Francisco, so we're close enough to the coast that most of our operations are unnecessary at the moment, which explains the, uh… Kids say 'tomfoolery', I think. Once we leave San Francisco Bay, we'll need to have our wits about us. Until then, I'd like everyone to maintain their posts as though we were out at sea, just to give Angela an idea of what to expect. Okay?"

"Yes, sir!" "Yess'uh!" "Yessir!" came a chorus of replies in unison.

The Captain grinned, turning to leave, pushing open the door into the hold, "Good. Now, back to your tomfoolery for the time being. We've a couple days before he hit the Bay."

Despite his approval to go on, his authoritative air lingered behind, leaving the crew rather unprepared to go on as instructed. Lena's lips tugged to the side as she realized the Captain's absence left her in charge, such responsibility not exactly becoming of her, though she still groaned out a directive as her shoulders slumped weakly.

"Ooookaaay, let's just…I don't know; we'll wash off this soapy water and I guess we'll just hang out?" she figured, finally coming to something worth directing, "I suppose, Angela, you could just hang out with each of us as we do our jobs, if Cap'n's wanting us to go about as though we were out at sea. You can chill out with me up in the nest while I'm doing my watchkeeping; I actually have a handful of neat-o telescopes you can check out! Then see what Hana's up to-"

"I am not currently seeking out apprentices," Hana spoke with a haughty air, eyeing Lena with serious eyes, "I heard Captain Morrison, but I don't even allow him to worry about our communications systems. I work better alone anyway."

Lena frowned, her inspirational attempt at authority instantly being rejected, "Hey, I'm the third mate, lassie; that means I'm in charge of safety around here. Would be a shame if something happened to make your machine down there a safety hazard until we hit port…"

Hana shot her superior a disgusted stare, much to Angela's fright, the newcomer quickly speaking up to maintain some semblance of peace, "N-Now, Lena, it's fine- I don't even need to know-"

"Hoo hoo hooo!" Junkrat laughed as she circled the three of them, running his thumb and forefinger along his chin as if examining the situation, muttering aloud to Angela as if he'd pulled her aside, "No no, my dear! She, tha third mate, she'll do it, I tell ya!"

As Hana's fierce expression gradually lessened, it turned into one of worry, her teeth exposing themselves as she bit her lip, thinking of the previous time Lena Oxton had made such a threat. Her eyes jumped to Junkrat, who managed to nod amidst his giggling, seeming to communicate to her to accept the directive given, lest she find herself on the wrong end of Lena's wrath.

Sighing, Hana dropped her head in time with her shoulders, "Fine… But don't you dare come barging in without knocking, alright?! I've got sensitive work going on!"

She pointed an aggressive finger as Angela, who replied with raising her hands in front of her in innocence, "Okay, okay! Understood."

Lena took a deep breath, resting her fists upon her hips again as she struck a triumphant pose, "Ahhh! Now isn't it all better when we're not bickering?"

Hana mumbled to herself with a turned head, "Not when someone's doin' the threatening…"

"Lu!" Lena shouted, her deckhand shooting to her side attentively, "Do we have any more of those Eccles cakes in the mess?"

Lucio pulled up a hand to count at his fingers, his face constricting thoughtfully as his eyes wandered away in concentration, "Eh… Not enough, I don't think. Maybe two? I could whip some up myself, but aren't they only Eccles cakes if they're, y'know, made in Eccles?"

Once again, Lena found herself deep within the realm of authority, her eyes closed as she reasoned the best course of action, almost as though she were deciding how to go about starting her own nation, before she brightened up in a single moment, throwing a thumbs-up at her chef, "Meh, make 'em up anyway. Those Manchester guys are squares anyway; they share a bed with those Liverpool knobheads. Whip 'em up, Lu!"

"Aye aye!" he shouted, rushing off toward the door that led into the interior of the ship, leaving Bastion of squawk along as he hobbled his way in pursuit.

With that, Lena spun around to make her way toward the crow's nest, waving for Angela to follow along as she proudly spoke up, leaving Hana to grumble her way back to her own post, along with Junkrat's giddy hobble, "Now, daughter of Cap'n, are you ready for the most rickety part of the ship?!"

"N-Not really, no," Angela replied, a queasiness suddenly welling up within her at the thought.

Lena reassured her happily, "It ain't that bad, don't worry. Look, just keep your hands on the ladder steps at all times, alright? We don't want you flying off, do we?"

"Lena!" Angela shouted angrily at her insinuation, leaving the third mate to laugh happily in retort.


	8. Apprenticing: The Third Mate and Officer

Angela's legs wobbled haphazardly as she clutched the top of the crow's best, crouched low with her head held down, a loud whimper escaping her every time the boat swayed, the slightest motion down below still sending the best rocking rather violently from side to side. Her shoulders jostling, Angela's eyed shut tightly, completely focused inward and entirely ignoring Lena's speech.

The third mate was sitting atop the wooden railing of the best, her lithe body merely rocking along in time with the boat's movements as if she didn't even notice them. Lost in her own obliviousness guised as excitement, Lena had gone through five telescopes, demonstrating them for Angela and going on about their functions and distances, oftentimes simply throwing her hand out to slide them into functional use.

"Finally, here's the best one; a Westhouse Hawkeye, made from the finest glassiers in Prague!" Lena explained with a low, suspenseful voice, "In the right conditions you can see clear across Oahu if you're high enough!"

She swung the largest of her telescopes like a sword, giggling excitedly as she pulled it up to her eye, holding either end carefully with both hands, a grin appearing below the instrument as she turned toward the continent to their right, "It's a bit cloudy, but you can kind of make out Mexico. I was hoping to see some burros with this thing- that's-"

"I know what it means," Angela muttered queasily, feeling waves of nausea run over her.

With her exhibition completed, Lena finally caught onto Angela's distress, turning her body to hop down to her feet, crossing her arms, "Ahh, we're still breaking you in, eh? They say you're not a true sailor until you puke, you know?"

"Well we passed that ten minutes ago…" Angela groaned, much to Lena's dismay.

"I missed it?!" Lena wondered aloud, "Aww, man! That's always the best part!"

Angela turned her head slowly to shoot an unenthused glare at the third mate, who went on in frustration, "Aww man… That look in their eye when they're totally done with all this only to realize there's no escape until we hit port. Kind of like a sickly mouse."

She turned to meet Angela's stare, Lena's face lightening up into surprise, "Yeah, yeah! Kinda like that!"

Groaning, Angela retreated to her nauseous pose, trying her best to remain composed despite her fluttery insides, Lena going on with a cheerful air, "You should see your dad up here! For all he's done insofar as captaining ships, the guy can't be up here for two minutes before clamoring to be let down."

"Must be hereditary," Angela frowned, suddenly upset at her father for such an existence he'd given her.

Lena shrugged, "Maybe. Kinda surprised me though; I'd always look up to the Cap'n as something of an omnipotent being- I mean, I hadn't ever seen him as anything less than a fantastic man and captain. Like, back when he was swabbing the deck with us? D'you know how many captains out there are too good for such things? Not Cap'n Morrison; he ain't afraid to meet us on our level, y'know? It makes want to be at our best for him."

She tried to hide a snicker, "And makes us not want to tell our crewmen when he blows chunks up in the nest! It was a tizzy gettin' a bucket up here to clean!"

Her uneasiness slightly abated, Angela managed to roll to her side, not sitting against the wall of the circular nest her hands pressed tightly into the wood below, its cool surface relaxing her roaring nausea a bit, "I didn't know he was so respected."

"I haven't had parents for most of my life; I just sorta scrapped my way around the streets of London growin' up until Cap'n noticed my 'slight of foot' he said," Lena smirked at the thought, "I've always sorta seen him as a father, I guess. I mean, I've gotten farther in life aboard this hunk a' wood than I ever would'a back home. I mean, everybody else respects the mess outta him, but they all coulda gone their own ways 'n stuff. I was the only one he sorta took under his wing, I guess."

She smiled thoughtfully, "It just means a lot to me, you know? Certainly you feel the same way?"

Angela lowered her head, almost ashamedly, twisting her lips with dissatisfaction, "I mean… I knew he was pretty cool as far as fathers were concerned, but- I don't know; I was such a troublemaker sometimes. Maybe I just didn't realize it enough to appreciate it."

"Bah," Lena scoffed with a grin, "Judging from my visit, I think you're still quite the troublemaker, Ang!"

She grinned, "Maybe."

"Probably why he brought you along finally!" Lena wondered with a curious tone, "Figured the sea would whip ya into shape!"

Angela eyed her mischievously, "Oh, there's no chance of that. He gave me this nausea; I have to blame him for my feistyness too."

At that, Lena's bright face slightly fell in thought, her eyes suddenly glazed over as they blinked beneath the light of the sun, "Nah, that was more your mother, I think. Judging from all I knew about her, anyway."

Angela's eyes shifted nervously, not exactly wanting to open such a line of questioning. The topic had always sort of taboo to her, she knew, and given her being upon her father's ship, she figured it was the absolute last place to bring up such a discussion. Lena must have felt similarly, as she suddenly grew quiet herself, as if waiting for Angela to bring up some other topic for the two to go over.

"So, uh, what else does a third mate do?" Angela wondered, shifting the tone.

Lena nodded attentively, "Well, I'm so 'slight of foot' that I don't actually chill out up here all day, since I can scurry up here in an instant if I need to. Outside of my watchkeeping, I'm in charge of the general safety of the Splitstream, and just a usual 'do everything' kind of person. When Cap'n and Jess aren't on deck, I'm in charge as well."

She leaned over with a teasing smirk, "That's the fun part."

Lena giggled, almost evilly, probably recalling the moments with Hana just moments ago, "But seriously, more than anything else, I make sure we don't run into anything that might pose a threat."

Her face fell in a flash, "…be it rocks or other ships."

"We're, uh- But we're not gonna run into aggressive ships on this trip, right?" Angela asked cautiously, earning a complicated glance from Lena, "I mean, how often could that happen?"

Lena replied darkly, much to Angela's continued unease, "It's probably guaranteed. Especially with the Shimada Trading Co. posing more and more of a threat to us."

Angela's heart plunged alongside her stomach as her insides quivered at the thought, wrapping her arms around her waist as she groaned painfully, "Oh…"

"Don't worry," Lena assured cheekily, "You've the best in the business aboard with you! We've yet to take on more that a few liters of water; you think the one time you join us will be the one we lose this baby?! Pfft, not a chance!"

Angela couldn't help but feel a rising interest in Junkrat's operations beneath the deck, now hoping that, for all its accouterments, the Splitstream remained armed to the teeth, if only to ensure safe passage through these waters that now seemed immensely uncertain.

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Angela tried to remain somewhat proper as she sat outside the comms closet, Hana refusing to allow her to sit beyond the barrier of the threshold. The officer hadn't said a word since Angela had arrived, having already sat up the chair at Lena's earlier behest, and now simply fiddled with the giant mechanism, holding her hand against one of the giant earmuffs of her headset, as though emphasizing the fact that she was too busy listening for something to be involved in conversation. Angela merely watched, attempting to gather what she could, though she was beginning to understand Hana's early objection, even if it was only because of Hana's own self-fulfilling prophecy- if she never taught anybody, of course she'd be the only one to work this behemoth of metal.

The young-looking woman reached over toward the metal interface, pulling out the large plug from a slot that read '148' with a dial beneath it with its own notches at its perimeter, methodically sliding her hand across the machine to '141', sliding the plug into the socket and lowering her hand to its corresponding dial, rolling it from side to side as her eyes narrowed seriously, stopping at no discernable point before lowering her hand, penciling in something on a map on her desk, moving next to writing on a sheet of paper at its side.

Angela leaned back in her chair, turning her head up toward the sunlight making its way through the cracks between the planken walls, frowning now that she was slowly regretting her father's decision to get her acquainted, not only with the crew, but with their activities, knowing that Hana was in no mood to be doing so. She twirled her lips, trying to come up with something to do in the meantime, reaching for her bag that she'd brought with her, full of things to entertain herself despite her father's insistence that the trip would be work, rather than fun. Still, she pulled her bag onto her lap, pulling out a book and opening it to its bookmark, sighing inaudibly as she began to read.

"That book's crap," she suddenly heard, her eyes jumping up to just see Hana's side-long eyes returning to her work.

With an uncertainty about her, Angela turned back to her book, pulling its cover back to check its title before returning to her spot, asking in confusion, "What?"

"I think they call it 'drivel' where you come from," Hana muttered, taking her pencil once again, scribbling as she held her other hand to a dial, "It goes nowhere."

Angela stared down at the book with which she'd only gotten half-way through, frowning as she pulled the bookmark from its pages with a sigh, "Well, I was hoping it would get better. Thanks for letting me know."

Hana shrugged as though preferring not to be the center of even an apology's attention, merely returning to her work as Angela reached into her bag for another book, pulling out a slim volume and holding it up for her to see, "How about this one?"

The officer turned her head only slightly, not wanting to appear too interested, "It's okay."

As quickly as she'd given her input, Hana returned to her work, leaving Angela to once again return a curious glance back toward her lap, critiquing the book in her hand. She slid it back into her bag, eyeing Hana with the same sort of critiquing eye she'd given to her book, trying to figure her out somehow. For one apparently so focused on her work, the officer didn't seem hesitant to keep tabs on whatever Angela was up to, though even then, she wasn't particularly sure whether Hana was taking the role of a chaperone or of somebody seeking out attention from outside the group.

Deciding to further test her thoughts, Angela reached back into her back, rummaging around long enough to deflect any suspicion, before pulling out a pack of playing cards, using two books as a playing surface on her lap. Not daring to give away her intentions by trying to sneak a look, Angela simply played by herself, constructing a makeshift solitaire game for herself in what little space she had, already intending not to finish to begin with.

Sure enough, Hana quietly muttered, still putting on the appearance of business, "Now what are you doing?"

"Just a card game. You've heard of solitaire?"

"Of course I have!" Hana raised her voice as though Angela had insinuated something of her intellect, though she quickly recoiled back into quiet grumbling, "I used to play cards all the time back home."

Angela's eyes lit up with inquisitive zeal, "Really? What kinds?"

As if weighing whether or not to continue, Hana bit her lip as her pencil stopped atop the map, a nearly inaudible groan escaping her as she decided to answer, "Poker and stuff. Hanafuda was brought over not long ago and some of us got into that."

"Hanafuda?" Angela asked, "I read about it in a compendium of card games once. That's where you match designs instead of suits or numbers, right?"

Surprised by her guest's rudimentary knowing of the game, Hana red her curiously with a side-long glance, not sure what to make of her now, "Something like that."

"It has your name in it too," Angela observed with a friendly tone, sending Hana's face spinning away as the officer hid a blush, chewing her lip angrily as if she'd given away too much information unknowingly.

Angela still continued, the shirk of paper cards being sent against others filling the air as she did so, "I was left at home a lot growing up, so I had to entertain myself when let with sitters with zero tolerance for anything relating to fun. or laughter. Anything that wasn't straight up boring, really. It's nice to know you've got your own ways of having fun though. So many of those crotchety old people, they always looked so dulled by lifetimes of nothing entertaining."

Without allowing it to affect her face, Hana couldn't help but feel a slight pang of Appreciation from her words, even if she'd worked hard to convey something of a professional air. Being as introverted as she was, she legitimately enjoyed being alone, though she enjoyed the sense of being somewhat understood, choosing not to exactly open up to anybody, lest she risk being the center of attention.

crackle

Hana's ears perked up, her nose popping to life as the smell of candied watermelon puffed through the air, sending her head turning toward her guest with a expectant look on her face, Angela peering back up toward her from a downturned head, surprised by Hana's sudden attention. Her hand was buried into a plastic sack of saltwater taffy that she'd brought with her, now frozen beneath Hana's heatedly inquisitive stare.

"Would you like s-"

"'s that taffy?" Hana interrupted with a persistently quiet voice, as though asking for something illegal.

Angela nodded, "Yeah, I bought some back home from a trawler that had stopped in port for some new fishing. They were some Dutch guys who figured they'd sell some-"

An unmistakeable string of saliva had worked its way just below Hana's lips as she nearly found herself shivering at the thought, her voice trembling, "Dutch taffy you say… How much you want?"

"Uhh…" Angela replied, still confused as she stared down at the bag of candy that, to her, had seemed like any other, "I mean, if you want it, you can have it; I didn't think-"

In a split second, Hana bolted from her stool, snatching the taffy from Angela's hand as she pulled her hands into her torso as she pecked at the small rolls of candy with two fingers, her nose quivering as she took in the sweet smell, "There is nothing, nothing, like this stuff. I would sell my soul to Davy Jones if it meant a lifetime of these."

Angela grinned, "You like candy?"

"Freakin' yes!" Hana shot back in reply, abandoning her professional grasp of the English language for a moment, "I mentioned Vancouver back on deck? They have the best maple candies in the world. It's like your mouth explodes in a crescendo of sweetness; the guys who make 'em, it's like they're writing personal love letters to your taste buds!"

A chill ran up Hana's spine as she recalled the taste, having gone without since the Splitstream's last voyage, though she took solace in the handful of taffy in her hand, quickly burying a piece in her mouth and swaying back and forth as she held it atop her tongue, simply allowing it to desolate there into a puddle tangy sweetness. Her lips fell back into her mouth as she mewled quietly to herself, wholly enraptured by the taste.

Revitalized almost, she hopped back onto her stool and, as though having passed some esoteric initiation, she waved for Angela to step into the closet-like room toward her, "Okay, so I'm supposed to show you what's going on with all this?"

"Uh, I mean…" Angela stammered weakly, unsure of this sudden change in Hana, "If it's not any trouble or anythi-"

"Pfft; I read books while doing this, I can show you some of it while I'm working," Hana assured easily, pointing toward the console as she tossed another piece of taffy into her mouth.

She explained attentively, "Okay, this equipment is so state of the art that it's not actually state of the art yet, you get it? As of right now, we only operate on the easiest bands available- you can literally access the channels from a box with wire hangers sticking out of it. Those are 140 to 148; don't ask why, somebody somewhere did all the math."

"Within those bands, there are even more wavelengths; so I plug into a specific band, then spin this dial between channels one to ninety-nine. You essentially end up with signals, like, 145.83, or 141.29," she explained further, pulling out a notebook and flipping open through pages of notes, "Ports will generally keep the same signal, so I keep records on each one, and then however few ships that are out there we communicate with, I keep tabs on those as well. San Francisco, for example… Here, 148.54. So when we get close enough, I'll plug into that signal and get word from the port manager where we can dock and so on. Saves a bunch of time, and hassle."

Angela nodded, "So what have you been doing if we're not close enough?"

"Well," Hana answered, "Since I can multitask, I don't exactly mind keeping an ear out. I mean, if there's a distress signal going out, you're rarely going to find it unless you go hunting for it, right? It's mostly just due diligence on my part; plus, I know the Captain appreciates it."

"Uh huh," Angela spoke, reaching out to poke the machine, much to Hana's bemusement, though she didn't say anything as she merely dropped another bit of taffy into her mouth, "How much did this all cost, anyway, if it's not even state of the art yet? or however you put it?"

Hana's face slowly crept into something of a worrisome grin, her bottom lip trembling as her eyes shot away from Angela, "W-We were told never to discuss that part…"

How own face falling into suspicion, Angela turned a glance toward Hana, who simply spun away on her stool, now facing the wall as though it were a completely normal thing to do. Still, she managed an awkward reach for another piece of candy, having to pull her head back and down to fit anything into her mouth she was so close to the wall. Angela frowned, suddenly worried at all the birthdays and Christmases she could have potentially gone without, a victim of such a breathless purchase as this one.

"Oxton seems to think the Captain stole it from a ghost ship," Hana muttered quietly, trying to deflect attention onto her, "Not that she bothered to explain how that could have even happened."

Angela sighed, falling back into her chair, "He wouldn't have done that. As cool as all the sailors made him out to be, he never came across as one of those swashbuckling guys they write about in my books, swinging from ship to ship and plundering loot like a deranged lunatic of the high seas."

Noticing Hana's body still facing the wall, though her face was turned to give her a side-long glance once again, Angela spoke up curiously, "Wait, he went all the way to Korea to get the best of the best when it came to this stuff. How much is he paying for you?"

Hana jolted in place, her shoulders trembling nervously as her head fell against the wooden planks of the wall with a soft thunk. She sent a shaky hand toward the desk, grabbing her headset, and pulling it over her head and upon her ears, drowning out any further questions as she remained transfixed by the wall itself, seemingly. Angela, for her part, only sighed nervously, crossing her arms in her seat as she worried about her father's ability to forecast the future.

What good would this thing be out in open waters, anyway?


	9. Apprenticing: The Cannoneer and Deckhand

"HOO HOO HA HA HA!" Junkrat cried out as his arm spun around like a mad man, working the winch that raised and lowered the anchor with a insanely enthusiastic look in his eye.

Angela stood as far back as she could, her hands covering her ears as her eyes narrowed from the strain upon her head as she gigantic chains clamored and clanked loudly, bursting through the air and only heightening in echoes from the ship's interior. She tried her best to manage the boisterous noise, though she couldn't help but wish she was back in the comms. closet, where Hana's quietness was far more preferable to this madness.

Junkrat eyed her from behind the winching mechanism as he continued motoring his arm around in circles, "OI, SHIELA! YA WANNA TRY 'ER OUT?!"

Angela wore a troubled face as she realized she'd have to yell back if he was to hear her, "NO!"

"GO?!" Junkrat shouted with a confused look.

"NO!" Angela replied just as loudly, pulling her hands away to expose her brain to the endlessly maddening sounds, waving her hands back and forth in a 'no' sort of semaphore, "NO!"

Only slightly rebuffed, Junkrat merely grinned as he returned his attention to the wheel he was cranking, "YA MISSIN' OUT! THIS ONE'S A BEAUT TA WORK, YA KNOW?! HOO HOO HA H-!"

-BOOM-

Angela fell onto the wooden boards at her feet as a humongous weight crashed into the ship, almost as though the Splitstream had been rammed clear through by another, mightier vessel. Angela's eyes went wide at the thought, though Junkrat's laughter, for once, came with a sense of relief.

"WOO HOO! That'll wake ya up in the mornin!" he cried out happily, "Now I just gotta lock 'er in 'n then- HAMM'ND!"

His face shot toward the port side, Angela's eyes following quickly to a large stack of cannonballs collected near the wall. Her eyes squinted as she noticed a plastic ball, about the same size, falling down the pile, slamming into each cannonball it came across, a small object being flung around inside of its plastic frame. Angela watched in confusion as Junkrat rushed over toward the stack of cannonballs to catch the lone plastic one, leaving the wheel of the winch to suddenly spin around like a weather vein in a tornado, the humongous chains suddenly shooting through the ship as the anchor flew deeper into the ocean, having not been docked before Junkrat left his post.

Angela's hands flew back to her ears as the chains' rattling rang through to her brain, a massive -THUD- shooting out as the chain reached its end, the ship violently wobbling to its side, sending the pile of cannonballs hurtling toward the opposing side of the ship. Angela's eyes flew wide as she darted to her feet, throwing caution to the wind as she made a dash toward a tiny nook in the wall, crouching into the small indention as the cannonballs rolled violently into whatever sat in their way in the deepest reached of the ship.

Junkrat darted over atop the flying stones of ammunition, desperately tracking the plastic ball as he fell to his stomach, covering his head as a cannonball blew just overtop of him, reaching his hand out to grab the object he'd been seeking, pulling it close to his face as he peered inside at the tiny creature within, its fuzzy body merely laying flat on its head as it rolled around lazily.

"Hamm'nd! Hamm'nd! Speak ta Jamie, c'mon!"

The tiny hamster finally spun onto its back, more to denote his being alive more than anything, his eyes rolling around in its head as he tried to compose himself on the bottom of the plastic hamster ball. The sight gave Junkrat a melancholy smile as he pulled the ball against his face warmly, as if hugging the tiny creature, though he did it quick enough to send the hamster bounding around the plastic ball once again.

"Oh, buddy, ya still kickin'! I dunno what I would'a done if anythin' 'd happen'd to ya!" Junkrat muttered, almost at the point of tears, "'ere, lemme get ya some vittles 'n we'll get ya all right as-"

A door from the ceiling suddenly shot open, catching Angela's attention as she slowly made her way out of the nook, Lena's face popping down from the sunlit-bathed gap, "What in the sam-hell blazes is goin' on down here?!"

Junkrat's head bolted as though her words had shocked the back of his mind, turning to her as he lay there, offering her the plastic ball, "Don' worry! Hamm'nd's doin' fine! I saved 'im!"

"Again?!" Lena asked aloud, "Junkie, what have we told you about pets on this vessel?!"

"But Luci-"

"And don't give me the old 'but Lucio' thing; Bastion goes off and eats junk he finds. How many times have we found you feeding your things from our stores?!" Lena asked assertively, obviously having rehashed this conversation many times by now.

Junkrat's head fell as he muttered just loud enough for her to hear, "F-Fifteen…"

A sigh escaped from the open hatch as Lena shook her head, grumbling, "You know I hate having to do this. Look, just- That's the last one, okay? Don't let Cap'n find him, otherwise the safety officer will be on the hook. And for cripes sake, no more yanking the anchor all the way into the ship."

Junkrat's head popped back up, "But tha ship c'n take it! If ya account fer the-!"

"I don't want to hear it, Junkie," Lena grumbled, "Cap'n already said no; this is a trader vessel, we're not trying to go balls-to-the-wall and obliterate ourselves while trying to obliterate others. Just cut it out."

The third mate grumbled once again, shaking her head before noticing Angela, "Hey. He's not teaching you the names and not the functions, is he?"

"N-No," Angela replied, somewhat shaken from the exchange, pointing as she explained, "That's the cannonball 'rack'. Well, they're over there now, but… Uh, there's four cannons per side, from left to right, they're Lucille, Dingo, Charlie, uh, Angela, Croc, Helen, Arvo, and Taz-man. Let's see… There's the cooping area, where you build or break down barrels, and he's already shown me his boatswain duties."

Lena eyed her with satisfaction, nodding to her as she quietly marveled, "Well, I guess you did good overall, Junkie. Just, please, keep that bugger out of sight as well as the anchor- we don't need it yanked right into the bow."

She gave a quick sending off before leaning away and shutting the door, encasing the two in darkness as their eyes slowly began to adjust to the dim lighting once again. Angela, for all her inexperience, simply remained still, rather than trip on any of the cannonballs that littered the floor. She felt a sense of unease at the sudden trappings of darkness, but soon enough, her ears perked at the sound of sniffling coming from the direction she'd last seen Junkrat, her eyes squinting in an attempt to locate him through the darkness.

Another sniffle of the tearful kind forced her to speak up, "Hey, Junkrat… You okay?"

There wasn't a reply. She slid her feet along the floor, slowly, trying to navigate throughout the dark room as her vision gradually heightened, coming to a stop as she began to see through the darkness. Junkrat had moved to sit atop one of the loose cannonballs, hunched over the plastic ball which he held in his arms in a sort of hug, his body trembling just noticeably as he cried silently, shaking his head in reprehension. Angela felt her heart sink at the sight, and in the interest of respect, remained still, not wanting to bother him.

He reached into his pocket and slid out a notebook, pulling a pencil from a shirt pocket as he flipped through the paper, page after page, nearly until he made it to the end of the bound paper, finally scribbling something before closing and returning the notebook to his pocket. He then leaned closer to the plastic ball, pressing his face against its smooth face as he forced a smile from his tearful face.

"We're gonna get bettah, huh, Hamm'nd? One of these days, we won't do anythin' wrong, eh? We'll get there."

He tapped a thumb against the ball as though giving the hamster a high-five, "Now no more causin' trouble, ya hear?"

Junkrat nodded to himself before dropping the ball onto the ground, Hammond scurrying around in exploration as the plastic ball rolled to and fro along the floor. After watching his companion swirl around for a moment or two with a grin, Junkrat began the task of reloading the cannonballs back into their 'racks', which had always seemed like a pile to Angela, slowly carrying one ball after another from across the room, almost having forgotten he had even had a guest with him.

Her own head lowered in something of reverence, Angela walked toward the closest cannonball she could see, and after finding herself incapable of lifting it, merely rolled it along the wooden floor as it tumbled along its stone face.

"Ya don't hafta," Junkrat waves her off with a weak smile, "It's my mess, yeah."

Angela growled as she was in the throes of breathlessness at the hands of her activity, "No! I'm your apprentice at the moment, and your tasks are my tasks. I'm nothing if not willing to learn."

Junkrat cracked something of a smirk before continuing to squat his way along the floor with three cannonballs in hand, "Well, ifya tryin' ta learn so much, what, ya goin' to capt'in a ship yerself?"

"I dunno," Angela shrugged, making her way back for another ball, "I don't have nearly the leadership abilities to Captain anything, but I think I'd enjoy doing something in a crew. Maybe not anything as taxing as this, but hey, taking barrels apart was pretty fun."

She paused for a moment, before weakly continuing, "Besides, I'd love to be with my father. and it's not like he's going to relinquish his captaincy anytime soon."

"Why ya say that?" Junkrat wondered, "His Jair's say otherwise! Hehe!"

Angela smiled nostalgically, "This ship is the closest he'll ever be to mom. He'd never get up. I've already figured out, he went out and got the best crew, equipment- he wanted the Splitstream at its best so it could be a rolling tribute to his wife in the mightiest sea. I think he'd die before giving this ship up, even to me."

"Just what I think, anyway," Angela muttered with a smile, "He never was a writer, my father; the closest love letter he could write to my mother was this ship, so he wants it to be perfect."

"Wow, ya make it sound like a load'a more than just a hunk 'a wood that floats, ya know?!" Junkrat exclaimed, "Now that ya mention it, Cap was watchin' me at the Brawler's Den down in Melb'urne before recruitin' me. I guess ifya lookin' fer a killah cannoneer, that's be tha place!"

Angela stared at him with excited eyes, "You were in the Brawler's Den?!"

"Born 'n raised!" Junkrat answered proudly, "Cap was tha one, actually, who put up tha money ta get me outta tha Den! Now that ya mention, he musta really needed a cannoneer, huh? Just wait 'till ya see me in open combat! When the cannon's 're goin' and the gunpowd'r's chokin' ya? Talk about a rush!"

Crossing her arms, Angela replied nervously, "Uh, I apologize if I don't share in the same enthusiasm…"

Junkrat giggled at her words, "Heehee! Nobody does, sheila, but that why I'm 'ere, now ain't it? Heehee ha ha!"

He bounded back toward the rack as he juggled three cannonballs in his hands, his sense of enthusiastic glee becoming electric, nearly to the point of contagion, and Angela smiled at the sight. For such a dank place as this part of the ship was, it seemed to be home enough for this ratty man, at least home enough that he seemed elated to have a purpose here, no matter how meager.

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Lucio crouched down until his eyes were just above the level of the counter, his eye brow raised in critique until his hands ever so slowly reached up and over the counter, holding a ruler just a hair's breadth away from the soufflé hat sat there, as if he were preparing it for some world-wide competition. A single eye lowered as he spun the ruler to the side, measuring the cake's height, sighing with relief as he rose to his feet, shoving the ruler back into the pocket of his raggedy chef's jacket that he hadn't even bothered to button up.

"Vwah-la!" he shouted happily, shooting his arms up into the air.

Either from the movement of wind from his arm's movements or his voice, the soufflé immediately began to deflate with something of a whispering cry as air whistles out from its flatted form. By the time Angela could blink, Lucio was buried in the corner of the mess quarters, hugging his knees against his knees as he silently cried to himself, only returning to the counter after Angela had blinked again.

"Welp, you can't win 'em all," Lucio concluded with a smile and a shrug, pushing the ramekin across toward Angela, "It's not all that pretty to look at, but it's still gotta taste amazing. I never, and I mean never, put out a product I'm not proud of. I can at least stand by the taste."

Angela picked up the ceramic bowl, grabbing a spoon as she eyed Lucio suspiciously, "This is supposed to make me cry, right?"

"If not this, I'll get ya at some point," he winked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the opposing counter with an expectant look on his face.

Angela took a small bite of the limp soufflé, her eyes rolling back into her head as her knees grew weak, her body lowering as she jumped to herself, the sweetness dancing on her tongue as she was strewn across some fluffy paradise, nearly becoming one with the dessert she'd taken into herself. She mused loudly behind closed lips, her appreciative humming causing Lucio to bow preemptively, ever the showman.

"Thank you, thank you; no long exposure photography please," he goaded happily.

"Dear lord that was delicious," Angela spoke, though her ultimate compliment was the grinding sound of silver of ceramic, her spoon hurriedly scraping against the bowl as she struggled to find any bite that remained in crumb form, "It was like… I don't even know. How did you get this good?!"

Lucio grinned, lowering his head to hide his embarrassment, "Well, my grandparents taught me a lot of it growing up; since then, I've just sort of dabbled. It wasn't until I came aboard the Splitstream that I truly began to expand my repertoire, if only because my wife expects the best meals whenever I'm home. I sort of screw my own self over; after you start making something elegant for breakfast, and they know you can make such things, you can't exactly go back to fried cake, can you?"

Grinning at such a story, Angela replied warmly, "That's sweet. Well, as a recipient of such culinary mastery, I hereby applaud you, and will continue to expect nothing but the best."

"Thank you," Lucio nodded happily with a smile, turning toward the sink that had collected a massive stack of dishware, "Well, I guess now comes the fun part."

Angela frowned at the sight, though she turned toward an empty barrel that sat in the corner, making her way over and ripping the lid off to find it empty. She pulled it over toward the sink and examined the quality of the dishes, none of it particularly fragile, and she began stacking it inside the barrel, much to Lucio's confusion.

"Hey now, we're not storing it to get it outta here," he frowned, "You can hide dust under a rug, but we need those to eat off of 'em."

Angela eyed him with a smirk, "We're not storing them. We're gonna stick them in here, take it up top, fill it with soapy water, then roll it around. All that slosh will clean this all right up!"

Lucio nodded with a critical look on his face, his eyes narrowed as he followed along, "Hmm… I like the way you thing Ang."

"Not bad for an novice cooper, huh?" she asked proudly, moving aside as Lucio took over collecting the dishes.

He wore a dark face, "Eh, if J was teaching you, I'm shocked your idea of cleaning dishes doesn't involve just blowin' them up so we just by new ones. Still, if this all works, it'll cut out an immense amount of time cleaning, and that's deserving of a hand o' doubloons in any case. I mean, just as long as they ain't mine."

"Not one to share too much, huh?" Angela teased.

Lucio grinned, "I'm happy to share, but you need something to share in the first place. The reason I deckhand at all is because most of my pay goes right back home to the family. I mean, granted, I make it fun, but still."

Angela smiled, "I think you mentioned there being pictures?"

"Hey, I only show 'em to the Captain- and to people who cry after my soufflés," he explained with a smirk, "You may be Captain's daughter, but you still don't fit into either category."

With a flair for the dramatic, Angela raised the back of her hand to her forehead, leaning back as she whined, "M-My, I do feel as though-… My soul has been shaken!"

She began to whimper sadly, though it only forced Lucio to wave her off, "Hey now, I don't want the rep of making Captain's daughter cry. I was gonna let you see anyway."

Angela composed herself with a mischievous sort of smile as Lucio happily brought out his wallet, pulling out a small collection of photographs and handing them over, "It cost an arm and a leg, but my wife insisted. Said I needed a reminder of who would whoop my ass if I showed up having gotten with some dock wench."

He laughed to himself, shoving a hand through his hair to scratch the back of his neck with nervous movement, "I just use 'em to see my family after months out here. This ship is my ticket to making sure my kids're taken care of throughout their lives, at least hopefully. Captain has been so very gracious; I can't help but work hard. There aren't many out there who people want to work and do well for. Your father's one of 'em."

Angela paused in thoughtful melancholy at the chef's words, Lucio suddenly lifted the barrel up into his chest, his dark arms bulging muscular, and started toward the stairway up toward the deck. Angela rushed to open the door as she went through the small stack of tiny photographs, smiling at the sight of Lucio's restless kids trying to scurry about as the film must have been developing over the course of a few minutes. His wife had an arm around their daughter to keep her still, the child's face waxing curiosity as she reached for something out of frame, while Lucio had managed to keep their son occupied with a feather duster, quite the out-of-place object indeed.

"They're beautiful," Angela commented as she followed Lucio's meager strides at the hands of the full barrel, his grin shining brightly at her words.

"They're the best I got," he spoke proudly, raising his head high, "I gotta do my best just to make sure I don't tarry behind, y'know?"

Before Angela could reply, a voice popped out from above them as they walked out onto the main deck, beneath the afternoon sun, a high-spirited, yet haughty, voice indeed, "You guys talkin' about me still? Yeah, I suppose I am the best, eh?!"

Lucio only cocked a grin as Angela's head shot up to find Lena hanging upside-down from one of the crossing ropes up toward the masts, smugly rubbing her knuckles along her sleeve as she mused in playful arrogance, "What'cha guys doing?"

"Well, we're cleaning dishes," Angela answered, helping Lucio ready the siphon hose that would bring ocean water up and into the barrel, watching the deckhand carefully as he tossed the hose over the side, much to Lena's curiosity.

While the third mate looked on, Lucio watched the siphon hose begin to suck the water up onto the deck, slowly collecting at the bottom of the dish-barrel, pouring some soap along to create the mixture he was looking for. Finished, and now waiting for the water to fill the container, he accepted the photographs back from Angela, who returned them gratefully.

"Don't worry about Lena," Lucio assured with a grin, shoving his wallet back into his pocket, "She's far more liable to allow her blood to rush to her head than her ego."

Angela heard a weak reply from above them, "…he's… right… ya'know…"

She smirked as Lena worked her way upright, sitting atop the ropes for a moment to collect herself as Lucio laughed, "I still remember the first meal I cooked for her. The Splitstream was two months off port when then came to my hometown- apparently, they were out of stores for weeks, living off rations after their last cook went down with scurvy; I guess he wasn't worth his salt, or vitamin C. So Cap spent hours scouring my city to find a replacement, stumbling upon me and my rickety shit wagon I had set up making street food. He brought me back to the ship, and before I had ever even agreed to tag along, here comes this British woman rushing at me with open arms, openly weeping, and diving into a hug because she hadn't a proper meal in forever."

Lena grumbled with a sickly voice as her blood continued to correct its flow, "Don't…remind me…"

"Heh heh," Lucio chuckled teasingly, "She was the only one who cried because of my cooking even though I hadn't even made her anything yet. I couldn't rightly say no after that. Cap promised me he'd offer me the best opportunity to become the best deckhand in the Pacific, and that he'd provide well for my family. Not once has that man let me down."

Angela's lips pulled in indecision, having heard much the same from the others among the crew. It tugged at her heart somewhat to know that, despite how much she considered him to be a good father, he had spent so much time leaving her at home without him while he was out in the world, doing for others what he could have been doing for her, rather than leaving her in the care of ruthless sitters for the better part of a decade. She realized it was selfish, but also couldn't help thinking she had every right to be, considering all the lost time the two of them had in between themselves.

Lucio dropped the lid atop the barrel before slamming the metal ring overtop of it to keep it shut, earning a suddenly critical glance from Angela, the ships newest cooper-in-training, leaving Lucio with a lackadaisical grin, "What?"

"That's, like, not at all how it's done you know," Angela smiled glibly with crossed arms, leaving Lucio to chuckle as he kicked the barrel over to its side.

He shrugged, "See? It works just fine!"

Angela eyed the perfectly sealed lid of the barrel with awe, confused at what had been the result, even as Lena began to speak up from above, still wrangled in rope, "Good luck ever proving him wrong, Ange. Lu is one lucky son of a gun; if he does something, anything, it'll usually just work out."

Left with more of the same astonished look, Angela only clocked on as Lucio kept an eye on the barrel as it rolled along the deck in time with the movement of the ship along the waves, the dishes inside rumbling against each other and the container as they rolled along, with Lucio quick to make a game out of it, rushing in horizontal lines along the ship to get in its way, leaving him to jump over the oblong projectile.

"I'll just hang a net over the edge of the deck and dump it there; it should catch everything," he explained as he vaulted over the barrel once again with a smile, "Thanks for the great idea, A!"

"N-No problem?" Angela asked, still curious as to the man's methods, her back falling as Lena dropped to the deck and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The third mate grinned, "Yep. I keep telling him his luck better not run out at the wrong time, but hey, he gets by. We all do, somehow! Now, ya ready for some navigating? We got a sextant and, my favorite, the ol' chronometer that we need to teach ya, huh?!"

"I suppose," Angela muttered, Lucio yet to miss his footing along he deck.


	10. Father & Daughter

Moonlight shone across the ocean as the Splitstream cruised noiselessly across its surface, with only the wind to accompany Angela as she stood with her knees pressed against the ship's edge as if bracing herself, her hands too busy to hold onto the logged railing if she were to sway forward too far. The salty air that she'd enjoyed smelling so much was now blind to her, having been within its wafting breaths all day, which she'd taken as a slightly adolescent way of being acquainted enough with this lifestyle, though after having been taken all around the ship and shone the ropes, she had grown at least more aware of the daily goings-on, and a new appreciation for it all had already dawned on her, much in the way the moon had crested over the horizon like a pale white sun.

Angela stood at the bow of the ship, her hands muffled by the use of the sextant that Lena had left her, though with more pressing issues, in the way of sleep for instance, the newcomer had been left with little more than a rudimentary knowledge of the device after something that might be described as an 'introductory' course, though such a description might offend any seafarer, Angela concluded silently. Still, she'd had a book with her that gave detailed instructions for many of a ship's activities, though even its instruction was rather outside her grasp of understanding, this all leaving her trying her hardest to come away from this experience with something, anything, to further prove her worth or, really, her own feeling of belonging here.

With only a single eye open, she peered down the sextant's sighting scope, trying her best to make out where the dark sky ended and the farthest reach of the ocean began, then attempting to find "Pale Walrus", which Lena had described as the brightest star in the sky, leaving Angela with nothing more to go on when it came to finding it. Still, she persevered, even moving around the ship's deck in case it might be elsewhere, coming up with very little until simply choosing a random star for practice.

She would then carefully turn the index arm, trying to line up the star with the horizon in between the gentle rocking of the ship and her own body's shivering from the breezy winds that surrounded her. After that, she would lock the index arm in place, but that was as far as she went, having gained little from either Lena or her compendium, and she was left with little else but fiddling with the device in her hand, bringing it down from her face at times to try and make sense of the numbers that ran down its arched arm like a bent ruler of sorts.

In the middle of her celestial observance, she heard heavy footsteps approaching her from behind, the unmistakable sound of her father's thick boots, leaving her to remain busy as Jack watched her with curiosity, quite surprised that she'd already been handed such a thing. Angela remained quiet, knowing her father was more than likely waiting to instruct her, though she was so far in by herself that she was too resilient to accept help, wanting to prove herself to the man who's so long kept her held back from this life.

Jack scraggly voice emerged quiet and warm in the cold air, sending a cozy twinge down the back of Angela's neck, "I usually train crewmen with the sextant a bit further in."

"Well, none of them were me. I've got this," Angela assured him confidently, hoping her father would call her bluff, at least not immediately.

The Captain only smiled at her confidence, dropping his shoulders back as his coat slid down his arms, allowing him to open it and drape it over his daughter's shoulders as best he could with her arms up along the sextant, leaving him to fix the topmost button around her neck to keep it from falling. He then stood beside her, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watched the dark horizon himself, taking sidelong stares toward Angela as he tried his best to sneak glances to appraise her ability.

"Nice night, besides the chill anyway," Jack muttered.

Angela pulled her head back to stare at him, "What?"

He grinned, "Are we not supposed to make small talk anymore?"

"No, just- The first words out of your mouth had nothing to do with telling me how to do this properly," Angela frowned, caught between seeking instruction and independence, "Are you losing your touch or something?"

A boyish grin came across her father's face, his eyes still peering along the horizon, "You're a big girl now; I wouldn't dare force help on another adult without their asking."

Angela suddenly frowned, recognizing her father's game. He wanted his spirited, headstrong daughter to ask for help? She wouldn't dare recuse herself to such a state of helplessness…even if she'd been out here in the cold for hours, and the large coat around her had already begun to subdue her into a state of longing for a cozy bunk. With her boy surrounded by warmth, her face suddenly grew more aware of the frigid air, Angela's mind immediately wondering if this had been a ploy from the start.

"How's the Splitstream treating you?" Jack suddenly asked, still staring out into the still waters, "One day in and you haven't stuck on your floaties and swam back home; I'd say that's a good sign."

Her pithy eyes glanced toward him with a frown, "How old do you think I am again? I'll have you know, I've had my head inside a cannon today so I could clean it out!"

"You'll be a sea dog soon enough, I suppose," Jack replied, cracking a grin, "There's more to it than cleaning and navigating, but for a first voyage, I can't say you're not exceeding expectations. Most of my newcomers have already puked off the stern by now."

Angela's eyes dropped, "They're not going easy on my, are they?"

Suddenly chuckling, Jack finally turned to his daughter with a childish face, "What, because you're my daughter? or because you're a woman? Are you wanting to throw up on the regular?"

"No," Angela frowned, crossing her arms as the sextant in her hand disappeared beneath her father's coat, "I just don't want anything hidden from me. I spent enough years with you shielding me from everything out here; I want to experience what you experience out here. See why you keep returning to the ocean; it can't be much more than trying to-"

Her eyes flashed with a breathless gasp, stopping herself from continuing, knowing she was inadvertently trailing into territory she hadn't wanted to explore. Still, her father seemed to gather what she was about to insinuate, his body slowly turning around as he leaned against the bow, his crossed arms sinking along his stomach as he stared down toward the deck with young eyes.

"You're not trying to be a seafarer just because your mother was, are you?" he asked with a gentle voice.

Angela bit her lip, suddenly regretting having spoken at all, though she knew she was in too deep at this point, "I-… I mean, maybe at first, but the more I read and the more I heard from you, I just- I don't know, maybe it's just in me because of you two; I kind of feel at home out here."

She sighed, not wanting to offend her father as she muttered along, "That's why it felt so much like I was being imprisoned back home. I just wanted to be with my father; it was sort of my ticket to being closer to mom as well, all things considered."

"What's 'all these things'?" Jack asked curiously, his warm face turning to confusion.

Angela shrugged absently, "You know, I mean it's kind of obvious, isn't it?"

She chuckled nervously, her eyes shifting away as she spoke, "All the stuff you do for this ship, it's kind of like your memorial to mom."

Her father's face turned in curiosity as she said that, his brow lowering as he peered out across the deck. Angela's shoulders slowly pulled in as her father's silence suddenly made her restless, unsure as to whether or not she'd upset him. She rolled her tongue along her teeth as she quickly wanted the conversation to either end or radically change direction, never much a fan of silent tension, though her ears perked as she heard him push himself to his feet.

"Well, your mother was quite the navigator, so I suppose we oughta get you familiar with that thing," he spoke up warmly, standing behind his daughter while his hands fell onto her shoulders, "I'm sure Lena wasn't too thorough; she hasn't the ability to stand still for more than a second or two."

Angela smiled amusedly as she pulled the sextant back up to her face, her father instructing her warmly as he bent his head down as close as he could to the side of her head, trying to peek down the instruments' sights himself, "Okay, see? You've already got the the horizon on this mirror, and you've-"

"I got that?" Angela asked in shock, "It took me forever and I still wasn't sure I'd found the horizon!"

Jack hummed behind closed lips as he nodded in reassurance, "Mmm hmm, you've definitely got it. It can be tricky at night, but you can just make it out, especially with a full moon. Speaking of… yep, you're not measuring by the moon it seems."

"I just picked a star; Lena didn't show me how to find Pole…" she suddenly trailed off, immediately noticing how silly she was about to sound.

"Polaris?" Jack finished with a chuckle, "I used to tell your mother I was jealous that she only had eyes for a star. That's just the North Star; just draw a line from the outside edge of the plough constellation and you'll find it."

Angela's head tilted around ever so gently as she attempted to spot either the star or the constellation, Jack going no further in the way of assistance, though he did continue to speak, "You don't want to measure by the moon, since it's so close it moves pretty fast in astrological time. Polaris never moves, though. Aei phanēs; 'always visible'. Unwavering. You might learn a bit of Ancient Greek if you're aboard as well; it was just something I picked up when-"

"How's this?!" Angela shot loudly, whipping her head around to seek out her father's reaction.

"Hmm…" he mused with a light tone, lowering his head further, noticing his daughter's lining up of the horizon and the moon, "Looks like you've got it. Remember to lock the arm in place, though, so we can record it."

A warm tingle shot down Angela's spine as her father patted her shoulder in praise, lifting himself and taking a step to her side, pulling out a notebook as she locked the arm in place along the arc of the instrument, reciting the readings as her father nodded, scribbling the results down for her.

"Alright, you're halfway there," Jack pointed out with a smirk, "You need to take these results and account for various errors that are simply basic to navigating with the instrument, right? Assuming Lena had you determine the index error from the start, you still need to work out the errors in dip, refraction of light through the atmosphere; and if you're using the moon or sun, the parallax and semi-diameter need accounting for. Hana should have some charts in with her, so if you ever need to-"

He paused as he noticed his daughter's sinking eyelids, the hours of working the sextant out beginning to catch up with her, and her body even began to sway before she corrected herself, standing up with a jolt and assuring her father, "I'm okay; I'm good."

"How long have you been out here?" he asked with paternal zeal, swiftly stepping forward to steady her as Angela went for another bout of swaying.

She thought lazily, "No big deal. Few hours."

"Angela…" he quickly snapped, softly, sighing with a disapproving shake of the head, "You'll get a cold if you stay out here too long. Come on, we can finish this up tomorrow, okay?"

"Mmmm…" Angela groaned in complaint as Jack began directing her toward the entryway that led into the ship, "You wouldn't do this for just any old sailor… It's just becau-aaaaaah- because I'm your daughter."

Jack smiled weakly, "Actually, I was a third mate myself a long time ago. There's nothing more dangerous than a tired crewman; I had to drag many sailors to their bunks. So, no, I'm not treating you any different, Angela."

He eyed her, speaking with a sarcastic air, though unable to hide a teasing smirk, "I know that's important to you, deck-sweeper."

His daughter's indifference signaled to him how far along she was toward sleep, having expected at least something of a teasing reply in turn, though receiving no such thing. He silently marveled at the extent of his little girl's devotion to her age, to the point where he wondered whether he should be thinking of her as such. He couldn't help it, he knew; there had been so much lost time between the two of them. Every time he saw her, it was almost as though he were desperately trying to revert to the first time he'd left his daughter at home; trying to make up for all the playing he had missed, all the first words she'd had. All the moments he hadn't a single memory of.

As her feet began to drag, he sighed, more for Angela's sake, knowing she would normally give him hell for such a thing, though he still bent his body down, grappling an arm around her legs and pulling her body into his arms, worried she'd collapse then and there. Sure enough, even in her tire, Angela still wiggled her shoulders as if trying to break free, though her effort was mostly for naught. She pouted beneath closed eyes, leaving Jack unafraid to show his smile at such a sight.

"Sto-aaaaah-op," Angela managed through a yawn.

He forced back a laugh as he explained easily, "Okay, maybe this is only something I'd do for my daughter."

His daughter grumbled in his arms, though as his coat and arms began to warm her up from the cold, lulling her further into sleep, her already useless complaints began to fall by the wayside, her head eventually turning up to rest in the nook between his chest and arm as her freedom came second to her sleep. She still grumbled inaudibly, as if merely resigning herself quietly, leading to another grin from her father as he crossed the deck.

"Your talking did it," she mumbled distantly, "When you two were home, mother would call you out of my room to let me sleep. but you always wanted to stay. So you'd get down so close, and I'd have to cover my mouth so I wouldn't start laughing, sitting your chin on my pillow and whispering bedtimes stories in my ear so mom wouldn't hear us. I used to feel fuzzy in the back of my neck listening to you, like how I felt back there; it'd just put me to sleep… every time…"

Jack slowly turned his head down to watch his daughter, a look of melancholy crossing over his face for just a brief moment before having to take his eyes off of her to carry her into the ship, though his mind was still left on her short, tired tale. A pang of guilt gripped at his heart- in all the travels he had taken, all the hardships, all the paperwork, all the sales, all the adventures; somewhere in all that, he failed to remember those nights with his daughter. The side of his tongue pulled beneath his teeth as he bit down, biting back a tear as he made his way toward the bunks, quietly, having noticed his entire crew having already fallen asleep.

He stepped quietly, however unnecessary it was, given a small chorus of snores that surrounded the two of them, and he gently placed his daughter into the last bunk, her voice grumbling once again at the sudden disturbance. As her hand slid down her father's arm, it clutched at his wrist for the briefest of moments, tugging at Jack's heart far more than it ever might have at his hand, before it fell onto Angela's stomach while she twisted and turned atop the creaking mattress. Jack dared to watch for just a moment before reaching down for her blanket, pulling it over her and tucking her in, his heart feeling some sort of warmth at the recollection of the same action seventeen years ago. He recognized just how much more work was required to tuck her in, now, in her adult frame.

He stood up, a look of sadness cast over his face, showing freely with his daughter's closed eyes, until he perked up at Angela's soft voice, "What was mom like on the ship?"

Jack managed a meager sort of smile, turning toward the snore-filled crew before working his way down to his knees, leaning over his daughter's pillow and readying his bedtime story, working up the courage to create new memories, even if only to replace the ones he'd lost. For all the time he spent warding off visions of that dark and stormy night, he would often think little of his wife, though now, he tried his best to come up with something, anything, that might please his daughter.

"Well," his voice shook for a moment before he quietly cleared his throat, "Well, uh, the was a tremendous navigator. All that math stuff I mentioned, she could do it in her head; she'd stare off into that thing for a handful of minutes and have a rough location, day or night."

A quiet chuckle escaped him, his hand flying up to his mouth to catch him before he awoke the others, "There was one time, she forgot the shade before calculating from the sun, she really hurt her eye- couldn't open it for days. That woman was so headstrong; I had to carry her out on deck so she could hear the readings and figure everything out in her head, even with such a nasty injury. I wonder where you get it from sometimes…"

He slid his hand away to reveal a boyish smile at his sarcastic quip, shaking his head, "She only had an eye for Polaris. I would tell her, all the time, how jealous I was…"

His voice softened, his eyes trailing off as his mind wandered in thought, "She would say…she saved both eyes to be trained onto me."

A greyness covered his eyes as he peered into the nether, his mind lost, surrendered to the visions of his beloved. His heart sank as he inevitably returned to that evil night when she was stripped from his life, leaving him broken.

"Any captain would'a sent her…" he reminded himself of that dark fact, as if in perpetual guilt, eternally forced to reason with himself the decision to send her out into the storm, "Any captain… Even me…"

Angela's body shifted, curling up beneath the blankets restlessly as she let out another yawn, not totally awake, yet not fully asleep. Jack's eyes wandered to meet her face, lost in the twilight between the two, finding every bit of his wife that he could in her cheeks, in her nose.

"That's why…" Angela murmured from a sleepless voice, "You do all this…for her."

Jack watched her for a moment, mulling over her words, before surrendering his final link to his wife to sleep, working his way back to his feet, holding a steady hand gripping along the bunk above her as he watched her silently. His head slowly turned upward to the ceiling, examining its wooden craftsmanship, taking in the Splitstream as he recalled his daughter's distant words from just a second ago.

With his daughter still in service of his coat, Jack stepped away, loosening his collar as he turned toward his own quarters, determined to leave his troubles behind the door as he stepped into the small room, shutting off his contact with the outside world as he did so. It was a practice he'd nearly perfected by now. His crew, his ship, they couldn't afford him to be troubled. His job required him to leave everything to the side.

Even his daughter, he thought, his heart set atremble by the worrisome idea.


	11. San Francisco

Angela's mind chugged awake before she had opened her eyes, the raucous pattering of feet from above her jarring her out of sleep. She curled back up in search of more sleep, unaware of the time where she was and planning to feign ignorance were she questioned. She still felt groggy, despite her deep sleep, and as she ventured back toward that same state amidst the rapid stomping from above her, a sound suddenly caught her attention.

-clangggg- -clanggggg-

Her eyes shot open in a split second, kicking her blankets off before jumping to her feet, making a hurried dash toward the entryway and up toward deck, her eyes immediately repelled by the bright sun as she jumped through the doorway out into the open air. With a hand raised to cover her eyes, Angela gasped in breathless surprise; just along the shoreline she could see ports and builds built up along giant hills, constructing in a crescent shape around what appeared to be San Francisco Bay. She stepped forward slowly, in sheer awe, this being the first time in her life that she'd seen a city that wasn't the one she'd grown up in.

"'ey! Newbie!" came Junkrat's voice from behind her, catching her attention and breaking her from her spell, "We just got tha okay! Help we wrangle this 'ere mast; we're headed inta port!"

Angela quickly took a spray gait toward him, clutching onto the same rope that Junkrat had a firm hold on, the two yanking the massive pole that made up the boom until it swiveled opposite the bay, causing the wind to push the mighty masts in its direction, right toward the small separation of hills that allowed ship's entrance. The cannoneer grunted as he tied down the boom, standing by to winch the large pole along as their course corrected itself.

"Now there's a good course, eh?!" he asked excitedly, turning his attention up toward the crow's nest, where Lena's arm was outstretched, giving a thumbs-up, "Ah ha! Junk Time success!"

Angela had to hop backward as she just noticed Lucio dashing across the deck, carrying armfuls of equipment and unable to see her, though he was quick to turn his head and apologize before rushing toward the port side of the deck where a handful of cargo rested atop pallets of wood, tied down to a collection of knotted iron spokes. As she watched Lucio drop the tools from his arms, Jack appeared from around the pallets, scratching his chin in thought as he went over how to handle offloading them in a timely manner in his head.

"Hey!" Angela shouted, sprinting toward the pallets herself, "I wanna help!"

Jack turned a glance toward her as he shrugged, "We won't know what to do until Hana gets a reply. We're just getting general prep work done; she's talking to the dock master, getting-"

Hana's appearance interrupted him as she stuck her head out from inside the ship, "He's got fifteen able-bodied men, two wagons, and enough horsepower to take it all to his stores."

"Excellent," Jack nodded, turning toward Angela while Lucio began carefully undoing the ropes of the pallet, "That just makes our job easier. We're going to offload this at the dock, go receive any payments, bring my second mate aboard, and then shove off westward."

As the Captain stooped down to help Lucio, Angela's eyes lit up at the mention of, "Jesse?!"

"Yes, the very same," Jack chuckled.

Jesse McCree has solidified himself in the span of Angela's inner mythology for years now, lending more to his position as her father's longest-serving crewman. Having never met him personally, from what she knew and seen, in whatever few pictures of him existed, she knew him to be a scraggly beast of a man whose abilities far exceeded anything Angela had known mere men capable of. He was loyal beyond measure, a man whom Jack had relentlessly insisted would travel to the earth's end for him, and while the idealism was mutual, Jack could tell the master seafarer was pining, more and more, for his life at home.

Excelling as a second mate, Jesse had every opportunity to become a captain himself, capable, perhaps, of outperforming Jack himself. That loyalty, however, compelled him to remain aboard the Splitstream, his service upon which led to his betrothal and marriage to his Leslie only a handful of years ago. Long lost were the days of Jesse's daring pursuits- he now had a family to keep him from fending of pirates on a whim or hunting small whales from the prow of the ship with little more than a spear.

Still, before every voyage, Jack would ask his dear old friend whether or not he wished to leave. With every route, the answer remained the same, though this time, as Jack peered up toward the rising landscape of the Californian headlands, he had never doubted Jesse's inclusion more. Not only did he have a family, there was the fact of the albatross around his neck, an ominous situation that Jack already knew proved far too real for one such as Jesse.

"That should do it, Cap!" Lucio proclaimed happily.

Jack nodded, turning to his daughter while pointing back toward the stern end of the ship, "Don't even worry about it, Angela. Go enjoy the sight while you can still be enchanted by such things. This is still your preliminary voyage, after all."

Unsure whether or not to obey, Angela figured she might as well take a glimpse, making her way up the stairway up to the stern side, passing the helm as her swift steps took her to the taffrail at its edge, her eyes widening at the astounding landscape before her, carefully watching the green hills grow closer as the ship sauntered ever closer to its destination.

She heard Junkrat mused dreamily, "Look at it! So regal 'n mighty…"

It wasn't the words Angela would have used, though she heard Lucio countering innocently, "C'mon man, get your eyes on the real prize! San Francisco, man!"

"Oh I got my eyes on tha prize, lad!" Junkrat happily confirmed, his head turned apart from the others, "The Presidi'a, the biggest milit'ry inst'llation on the Western seabo'rd! The Spaniards left tha biggest array of artillery; I'd very much love ta meet 'em someday!"

Jack smiled, "Maybe next time. and yes, I'm aware I say that every time."

Junkrat giggled, "Nah, Cap'n; I'm all in fifteen ways ta Sunday!"

"Good to hear," the Captain answered with a smile, turning toward his daughter, "The winds favor our arrival! We're coming in fast; Angela, come on and help Lucio and me get this other pallet freed."

The three managed to get nearly completed before Jack had to make his way up to the helm, maneuvering the Splitstream into port, offering a sigh of relief at another tour completed, working his way down onto the deck as Lucio and Junkrat pulled a ramp across to lower down onto the harbor, a hungry-looking group of dockhands ready to unload the cargo, though only after Jack reached for some coins from his pocket, gratefully offering payment to the expectant men.

Hana emerged from inside the ship's hull, her arms crossed and head bowed in the presence of strangers, though she still made her way toward her Captain, her voice low as she muttered, "Jesse got in touch with the operator. He'll be here within the next hour or two."

"Perfect," Jack nodded, stuffing his coin purse back into his coat pocket, "That gives us time to settle our affairs. Lena, you have the deck. You and Junkrat make sure these men are able to do their job. Lucio, make sure they have a meal before leaving. Hana, Angela, we're heading out."

While Angela's face beamed at the idea of visiting a foreign city, Hana's expression shot from one of abject horror to one of disillusionment, obviously offended by the Captain calling her off the ship, her voice quietly spouting as much, yet retaining some politeness, "Captain, What in Davy Jones are you talking about? I've never been of this ship outside of my home port!"

Jack shrugged with a reassuring smile, "I'm sure it will prove worth your while. We must attend to the matter of your payment for this journey, of course, if that at all interests you, that is."

Hana bit back the retort she'd been preparing, suddenly intrigued by her Captain's insinuation, "…I wasn't promised that until Vancouver."

"Judging from the invoicing, as I set a course last night, I realized it might be best for us to forego Vancouver and simple hurtle across the sea. Just in the event we all decide on this course, I want to be sure you're compensated in any case," he explained.

Her mind rolling through this scenario, Hana's head slowly began to nod, though she quickly recoiled, aiming a finger toward Angela, "Is her taffy found here?!"

Angela's face went blank at suddenly being called out, but Jack gave a reassuring smile as he nodded himself in reply, "It might be; San Francisco is the crux of American, Spanish, and Canadian trade, so it's home to plenty of commerce. We should have time for you to explore, and for Angela to see the city somewhat."

He turned to his daughter, "Sound good?"

"Sound good?!" She repeated in inflected tone, "Yeah! C'mon Hana, it'll be worth it!"

Still perturbed by the prospect of being in such a dense conglomeration of human beings, Hana nevertheless sighed, stepping toward the two as her lips twisted in dissatisfaction, "I'm holding you to that…"

The three of them worked their way down the ramp, Hana making sure to remain as close to her Captain as possible without running their feet together, almost as though trying to hide behind his wide shouldered frame, even as Angela darted left and right, flabbergasted at even being upon a foreign harbor from the one at home, She ran up to examine everything that she found to be different, under the watchful eye of her father, her eyes widening as she noticed a massive collection of crates beneath an awning, with a massive amount of sailors surrounding them, a lanky-looking man standing atop one of the more prominent boxes, holding an impatient hand into the air.

"Father, what's going on over there?!" Angela asked heatedly, hopping up and down beside Jack as she attempted to get a better view.

"It's an auction," he explained, unfolding a sheet of paper he'd pulled from his coat pocket, "We'll check it out after meeting with the dock manager and get everything sorted. Hana, I'll also need some coordinates to calculate the miles we've traveled to account for reimbursement due to speed- that stunt with the anchor nearly lost us a good chunk of coin."

Hana grumbled, not wanting to lower her crossed arms to reach into her pocket, preferring to stay concealed behind her own arms, "O-Okay…"

"Davisson is expecting one fourth of what we're lowering, and along with another fourth for Gerry & Co, apportioning that remaining half three ways, we'll need to allocate enough of that first shipment of order to…"

His voice trailed off as he and Hana moved on toward the manager's dock house, not noticing Angela having stayed behind to watch the excitable patrons hooting and hollering, waving wads of cash with clutched fists as high as they could, the auctioneer drawing his own exuberance from the crowd's reaction as he pointed out toward a large container that sat between all the others.

"And heeeeere we have cargo headed for the West Indies! Our hiiighest bidder will be aiming for a pay day of a thousand doubloons if it arrives by May! Any takers?!"

The crowd roared with loud shouts of coin amounts, the immense collection of sailors bidding on which one of them would bargain for a pay day that was not yet guaranteed. For that amount, however, Angela knew, a thousand doubloons could change a man's life; or a woman's, she thought with a coy stare. Suddenly, the abundant mass of bodies grew more forceful, only a matter of time before money was not satisfactory enough to decide who would take the cargo. Fists quickly replaced the coins as a brawl broke out, leading to loud whistling from officers quick to rush in and break up the mob, much to the auctioneers continued exuberance.

"Now now, boys, there won't be any pay day at this rate! This cargo's sponsor is Gabrielle Adawe herself; it wouldn't do to have a brawl break out! Such a detestable thing to her!"

Between the man's insistence that the entire cargo was in jeopardy and the officers whipping out their batons, the crowd quickly scurried up like a pack of wild animals, once again prepared to shove their money-grubbed paws into the air for one final attempt at fortune. Angela frowned at the abhorrent ferocity of it all, deciding instead to explore the tent that housed the cargo before it was to be wheeled out for auction, baffled by the sheer difference in sizes between crates. Some were large enough for an elephant, while others were so miniscule that a puppy might not have fit. Then again, Angela wondered, the smaller the shipment, perhaps the more valuable it was…"

She came across one peculiar crate that had a tag dissimilar to all the others. It merely read 'SHIPPING TO: Far Away - PAYMENT: To Be Determined'. That type of ambiguity troubled Angela as she reached out to touch the medium-sized box, a steady hand flying out to grasp her wrist before she could make contact, turning up in a daze to see her father, Jack wearing a slightly worried face as Angela's glare softened.

"Father!" she spoke up, her heart racing.

"Please don't touch the merchandise," he instructed with a light smile, "Some of the suppliers get very antsy about people poking around over here."

As he pulled her away only slightly before releasing her wrist, she quickly rushed up to his side with a hurriedly curious voice, "Well, what's going on over there then?"

"Somebody figured out they could offer enough money to sailors who might not make their quota in time, ultimately saving more money on shipping the stuff in the end," Jack explained, "You'd have to be a fool to try some of the deals that go around; probably why they troll the younger, more inexperienced seafarers who are desperate to make names for themselves."

Angela kept up with her father's rushed strides, obviously having left Hana somebody to retrieve his daughter, "So a thousand doubloons if you get something to the West Indies by May?"

Her father stopped in his tracks, turning to his daughter with a face that found difficulty in holding back his immense laughter, "Who proposed that?! You've got to travel around the whole of South America! It's preposterous, really."

"I believe they said it was Gabrielle Adawe?" Angela wondered aloud.

Jack nodded, beginning to walk again, "Well, she didn't become a millionaire by handing out money left and right. Like I've always said, if somebody's stupid enough to accept such ridiculous terms, there's no helping them. That's why you're traveling with me instead of some randy from Prussia who could take from you all you're worth."

"Are you saying you don't trust me?" Angela asked, more in teasing, hoping her father wouldn't take it seriously.

He eyed her with a grin, "I'm sorry, who was an inch away from physically laying claim to some ridiculous shipping venture?"

Angela shrugged, "I was just curious is all. and what, was your first venture with a Prussian guy?"

She heard a groan escaping her father as he led her back toward a small shack of a building, the two of them stopping outside what must have been the manager's shack, Captain Morrison turning his head back and forth curiously, perhaps in search of his officer, though it was Angela who noticed a box sitting near the doorway, its lid lifted only barely in an unnatural state, as if having been held up from inside.

"Hana..?"

The lid instantly fell for a moment before sliding off the crate's top, Hana emerging with a detestable look on her face, eyeing her Captain with a vicious face as she quietly spouted, "Thanks for leaving me here, Captain! You know I hate being left alone in crowds!"

Jack nodded apologetically, "I apologize; my daughter was about to claim some of the cargo being auctioned off."

The officer whipped her head toward Angela with a sharp stare, "What, are you crazy?"

Angela groaned with a hand over her face, her eyes closed so that she missed her father's inaudible chuckling, "Come on you two, that's all the paperwork turned it. We'll go out and about, on our way back get our payments, and be off. hopefully with a second mate in tow."


	12. The Shimada Company

Genji's breath came out burning hot against the skin meeting his face, fighting the urge to simply turn his head an inch to the right and take something of a tender nibble out of the woman's body that lay beneath him, the two of them bent over the course sheets of a bed that was only oftentimes considered for sleeping. Unable to bite at her, such a thing would often get him in trouble with the stooges running these places, he merely barred his teeth, a growl escaping him as his fingers closed tighter along the wench's sides, lifting himself back up to his feet while releasing a hearty groan, the women beneath him leaving only trace amounts of moans, having partaken in such activities long enough to be rather bored by them.

Genji frowned as he shoved his pelvis against her backside, coming to a stop, panting heavy as he released a hand from her hip, rubbing it instead along her back as he muttered beneath hot breaths, "C'mon, a little enthusiasm would go a long way, dear. Make me know you're down there."

The wench sighed, her face turning as she thought of how to accommodate the request, leaving Genji with a sigh, shaking his head, "You know, if they quit taking tips at the door, it would make you all work a little harder."

She rolled her eyes while practicing something that resembled sultry moans, despite the man behind her not moving, leaving Genji to shake his head, peering over toward a clock on the wall, frowning once again as he recognized his waning time. He returned to his wench, pulling himself from within her before bending down and taking her knees, forcibly spinning her onto her back, eliciting a shocked cry from her as he did so, earning her an intrigued glance from her current client.

"Ah, so that's it," he cocked a grin, his hand stroking himself by his length to keep him primed while his free hand pulled her to the edge of the mattress, leaving her ass nearly hanging off before he returned to her depths, falling forward as he caught himself with an outstretched arm at her side, "I'm running out of time, darling, and I can't take it when my ladies don't let me know they're feeling something."

The look on her face showed slight hesitation from his previous action, though it turned to something far more in the way of shock as Genji reached up to take a ravenous clutch at her nipple between two fingers, forcing a sudden, loud gasp as she threw her hands up to grab at his wrist, trying to push him away. He pulled away his arm with a chuckle, shooting her a devious wink.

"Only a matter of time before I find out what gets a woman off," he muttered with a cocky air accompanying a smarmy sort of grin, taking her once again by the hips as he threw his crotch into her, closing his eyes solemnly as she began to moan louder than she had been, more likely due to how he'd escalated the situation.

Inevitably, the pads of his fingers that rode her haunches as her body waved back and forth in waves turned into his claws, sending another frightful cry into the air as Genji groaned aloud appreciatively, shaking his head incredulously at how much further his enjoyment had come from a moment ago. He fell forward, just catching himself above his wench as she gasped in surprise, staring down at the top of his head as Genji took a generous nibble out from her breast, her voice shooting into the air as the sharp sensation coalesced with the searing pumping along her gut.

She threw her hands up over her head, clutching the sheets as tight as she could, withdrawn to merely riding out the experience as Genji took her very body, a satisfied moan leaving him, burning her skin as his head fell between her breasts while he emptied himself within her, remaining there for a brief moment before sliding back down her body, well aware of his time limit despite having just lost himself in such an illicit pleasure.

"Fuck," he gasped with empty breath, meagerly pushing himself back up onto his feet as the wench simply remained laying atop the bed, her own body recovering, as he grinned down at her, "Told you."

He strode toward where he'd bunched up his pants, reaching into his pocket and, feigning graciousness, tossed a hefty coin over onto the bed as his torso fell back slightly in examining his work, "Another one satisfied, huh?"

He chuckled to himself as he reached over to return his clothes back onto his body when a violent knock came to the door, earning a quickly frightful glance from Genji. The wench, for her part, suddenly lifted her head, pushing her body back up against the headboard to keep away from the door as far as she could, though Genji threw a passive hand into her direction, gesturing for her to remain where she was. He carefully stepped backward toward the door, grasping a cheap-looking candlestick from the table, reaching a ginger hand toward the doorknob and whipping the wooden barrier open, immediately dropping his arms and head at the sight of his brother, Hanzo's severely unenthused face sure to remain high toward the ceiling.

"You done?" he asked as Genji bit back a curse on his way back toward the table.

"Fuck, brother! You nearly gave me a fright!" Genji shouted, albeit with a held back tone, "You know how many brothel-bearers knock down a door for one second over time?!"

Hanzo rolled his eyes as he took a step inside, "Well I didn't see anybody out there. I never needed to be versed on brothel etiquette; I only ever enter them when I'm needing to recover my first mate."

"Well, one of these days," Genji bit back, sliding his underwear up his legs, "Your timing will be far worse than you'd ever expect, brother."

Hanzo shot back a equally severe stare from earlier, "I think that works far more in your disadvantage, Genji."

"Fuck off," Genji charged, shaking his head, "While you're hear, be a good brother and pay her; I only had a single coin on me, I had to leave the rest to get in."

Hanzo took a pithy glance toward the cowering woman atop the bed before returning a heated glance toward his brother, "Genji, how am I supposed to get anywhere with you fucking away all of my money?"

His brother shrugged, "We could always fight our way through the bouncers."

The older of the two frowned, reaching into his pocket with a near-inaudible groan, pulling out a handful of coins and counting them before taking a few steps toward the bed, causing the wench to recoil. He didn't bother reassuring her, though as he rested a portion of his coins on the bed, he reached for the single doubloon that Genji had left, whipping a serious glance toward his brother.

"The fuck, Genji, this one's fake," he accused with a biting tone, "You seriously have a death wish, don't you?"

Genji, turned away, cocked a knowing grin, "Hey, it's served me well. What's it you always say, brother? Keep your best weapons at your side at all times?"

Grumbling as he returned to the door, Hanzo shot back with a even tone, "I just wish you'd keep one of them between your legs at all times."

Unable to help himself, Genji cocked another grin as he strapped up his belt, bouncing toward the door as he worked his boots on one at a time, leaving his wench with a playful wink before backing out through the door, pulling it closed and following his brother while fixing his shirt.

As they left the brothel, the bright sun encroached upon Genji's sight, his hand quickly reaching up to shield himself from its light as he followed Hanzo into the San Franciscan crowd, thinking it must have increased in size since they'd come ashore just an hour ago. He quickly ducked and threw himself out of people's way while Hanzo simply walked along, swiftly pulling himself from side to side only when necessary.

"I don't understand, Genji," he sighed with a shake of his head, "I spend so much time and energy maintaining you on top of everything else I have going on within the Shimada Company. When are you going to end these childish pursuits?"

Genji smirked, "Well there's nothing childish about-"

A stern look from his brother ended his correcting, though he went on, "Brother, you've seen as many dead men as I have in my life. I don't understand you go about life failing to live. We're only given a single body in this life; who knows when you might lose it?"

"That's why we aspire to attain that which lasts," Hanzo instructed with a haughty air, "Serenity, tranquility, reverence, respect; these are things we're brought to this earth to acquire, not flimsy pursuits of the flesh."

Genji sighed with weakening shoulders, shaking his head, "You don't get it brother."

"That money I just left for that whore of yours?" Hanzo spoke with a venomous breath, his head whipping toward his brother, "That could have gone back home to help our people. When I started this company, it was to put nourishment into the bodies of my compatriots, not so my brother could expel from his own body. One of these days, if you don't learn, Genji, my patience will only wear so thin."

His brother scoffed, "Like you'd ever send me away. I'm the best damn first mate this side of the globe; you'd spend more money retaining five men that'd be doing the same work I perform. If I'm constantly serving you, brother, to the best of my ability, I see no reason…serving the women of the cities we come ashore as well. You know my attention is only upon your company, brother."

"Sadly," Hanzo sighed, "What you say is true."

Genji chuckled, reaching an arm around his brother's shoulders, "What is that- Yin and yang, right? We're two sides of one coin, brother. You'll never live your life, and hey, I can respect that; some people have to work, it's in them to never step away. I think it's-"

"And you'll never grow up," Hanzo charged in retort, earning a grin from his brother.

Genji patted his brother's arm from around his shoulders, "If you keep waiting to grow, brother, one day, those years run out. Given our line of work, I'd rather live now when we risk dying tomorrow."

"Then you should pray I don't perish as fruitlessly as you seem to wish for yourself," Hanzo groaned with a pithy voice.

His brother merely laughed as he returned his arm to his aide, sliding it back across Hanzo's back before examining the crowd surrounding them, ebbing and flowing through the packed streets of San Francisco. Noticing his cuff slightly out of place, Genji went about fixing it as the two brothers made their way down toward the pier of the bay, their massive flagship prominently displayed in its waters.

While Captain Jack Morrison had ventured as far as his reputation could have possibly gone with a wife and child, as well as an affinity for his crewmen, the Shimada Company had taken over the Pacific in an elative storm of fiscal conglomeration of other, smaller fleets and individual ships. Hanzo Shimada, it's deadpan founder, would go into ports and buy the services of smaller Companies, eventually working them into his own fleet where shares were divvied up, coming with that the promise of brighter futures instead of the drab existence of working alone. Captain Morrison didn't exactly seek out fortune, that same reputation only leading him to a comfortable living, though he had earned the loyalty of enough businesses along the American coast to present himself as a sizable thorn in Hanzo's side, a man who sought to make the entire Pacific Rim a free-flowing trade system underneath one banner.

His meager beginnings weren't often spoken of, as his proud exterior hardly ever regaled anybody in the way of personal anecdote. He and his brother, the free-spirited Genji, came from a proud family that had spent generations upon the earth, among acres of enchanting farmland that supported them. After a drought, their eldest, Hanzo, was tasked with being sent out to beginning fishing to supplement the family's waning stores of rice and grain, ultimately frowning his single fishing boat into a rather profitable venture along the whole coast of Japan.

Forever seeking the sort of recognition that might outlive him, Hanzo continued to expand upon his horizons, taking up small fleet after small fleet until he'd amassed the second largest enterprises in the hemisphere, overseeing it from his flagship, the mighty Hanamura, his trading lines taking him on entire circumnavigating excursions on occasion, though he preferred to remain in the Pacific, the largest and most powerful sea to conquer, he thought.

While building his empire, his brother, on the other hand, was left home in Japan, carousing and leaving his talents toward the arts, be it the martial arts or art in general, seen as more of a vagabond by his family than a man on anything resembling a mission. Then, after his presenting of a piece of music for his father was severely rejected, he began a gradual decline toward bar-hopping and womanizing, quickly leading his family toward the bitter path of disowning him, lest he bring with him his lot of illegitimate children. Slightly begrudgingly, Hanzo took his brother under his wing, though it did little to quell Genji's more worldly passions.

The younger of the two took to seafaring like a man having been born in the ocean itself, quickly proving to be a world-class crewman, having been inspired by the ocean waves, the salty air, and the myriad of cities they would visit; in a sense, the most aimless existence offered him a direct path to happiness, and he thrived in the environment, earning him a spot right beside his brother aboard the Hanamura itself, though Hanzo often continued to discourage any behavior that might bring shame upon his enterprise. Hanzo loved his brother, regardless.

"You say your job is always at the front of your mind," Hanzo challenged with an unmoving face, "What have we on deck?"

Genji chuckled as if preparing to prove his worth underneath his brother's very nose, whipping out a slip of paper with a copy of their charter scrawled across its wrinkled slate, "Looks like a couple pallets of lumber from up north, a dozen barrels of whiskey, a collection of trinkets from the eastern seaboard, and some cargo from Toronto with an assortment of animal skins and iron ore. Your influence is spreading over land, brother!"

"Yes, it is," Hanzo nodded with an austere expression, "With my network, it's almost as quick to travel across this continent and ship across the Pacific than the Atlantic. Plus, there's the matter of protection; no one would ever dare to strike a ship with the Hanamuran insignia emblazoned across its banners. Safe, cheap, and-"

He eyed Genji with a fierce stare, his brother laughing mutely to himself as his elder brother admonished him, "You truly have the worst mind, Genji."

"I'm sorry, brother! Your wording had me achuckle!" Genji assured childishly, waving his brother off, "Come on, give me another test of loyalty that I'm sure to pass. You want me to recite your pledge while balancing on one foot? Do you need the manifest? I've got that tucked away along with the invoice. Come on!"

Hanzo groaned at his brother's all-too-proud display of his greatness, rather preferring his younger brother had heeded what they'd been taught as children. As he prepared to chide his brother with the same tone as their father, Hanzo's face turned into a scowl, enough that his brother immediately noticed, Genji peering along the busy pathway to find what had suddenly stolen his brother's ire. Sure enough, through the mass of heads and covered shoulders, Genji made out the unmistakeablly pre-lightened hair of Captain Morrison, his lips curling into a smirk as he pulled his head over to his brother.

"What are we gonna do?" he asked, hiding a snicker, "I say we break his legs- keep him from going anywhere."

Hanzo shot his brother a stare, "We're not doing anything, Genji."

His voice grew heated, "We're not animals. Just because we are competitors doesn't mean we-"

As the two of them strode past the Captain, Genji swiftly pushed his body to the side, more or less throwing his shoulder into Morrison's own shoulder, sending the two of them off their gait, Genji turning on his heel to face him with outstretched arms, "Hey! What gives?!"

Jack composed himself as he watched Genji with dark eyes, though it wasn't him who spoke up in defense of the man's action. Hana quickly jumped forward with a closed fist, baring her teeth as she sought to take the challenge he must have presented.

"Right back at ya, jackass!" she shouted angrily, "I saw that!"

Genji shrugged off her anger, ignoring her as he continued addressing Captain Morrison, "Still trouncing around with this inbreed, are you?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Hana launched herself toward Genji, though Jack was just as quick to grasp her shoulder, pulling her back into place as she snarled, angrily, leaving Jack to speak up with a low, authoritative voice, "Please don't harangue my crewmen, Shimada."

Hanzo remained still. Jack already expected him to do so; he had already noticed that, while he was a no-nonsense Commodore, when it came to the Splitstream's crew, Hanzo would often take a while longer to stop his brother's untoward behavior. Jack simply held his officer back, attempting to prevent escalation, though Genji wasn't making it easy.

He aimed a sneer down toward Hana, "How is the mainland treating you dogs?"

Hana threw herself against her Captain's restraint, leaving Genji to chuckle as he turned his eyes toward Morrison, "Better keep a leash on her, Captain, you wouldn't want her making a mess of your already run-down vessel."

His head turned up toward Angela, her failing to get lost in the crowd meaning she was accompanying the two Splitstream sailors, his lips curling rather politely as he spoke up, "You didn't mention a new sailor, Morrison. First that wife of yours, and now- You'll have to tell me where you find all these fine pieces of-"

With a pounce of a lion, Jack jerked his body toward Genji while still holding Hana away, grabbing the Shimada man by the collar and yanking him close to his face with gritted teeth, Jack's voice hit with fury, "If you end that sentence, I'll end your life."

He barely felt the sharp point of Hanzo's sword slid through the two men's arms and pressed against his neck, ready to slice a hole into Jack's artery at the slightest provocation. Genji chuckled at his brother's ability to assert leverage in this way, already feeling the Captain release his grip from his collar.

"Now, now, lets be civil," Genji instructed with outstretched arms as he pulled away, taking a step back as Hanzo removed his sword from Jack's reddened skin.

The threat of having to take a life shot an insecure itch down Hanzo's spine as he slid his sword back into its sheath, grasping Genji by the shoulder and pulling him away as the younger of them smirked boyishly, "Just keep an eye on the tiny one, new girl. They breed with animals over there, you know; just look at her!"

He laughed as Hana made another desperate yank away from Morrison's clutches, though it once again proved unsuccessful. She fumed in her Captain's arms as the Shimada's tarried away as though unaffected by the encounter, despite Hana feeling as though she were ready to throw a mountain at them. She'd been biting her tongue the whole time, but as her Captain gently released her, she bolted away in a single step, spinning toward Jack with a shout.

"Why didn't you let me get them?!" she asked, angrily.

Jack eyed her seriously, shoving a thumb into his chest, "Because if anybody is going to jeopardize my ship, it will be me, not one of my crewmen. The Shimada Company could swat us out of the ocean like a fly if given any provocation; that's why the elder Shimada let Genji goad you on."

He lifted his shoulders as if to adjust his clothing, turning a wary glance over his shoulder toward his daughter, "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

She shrugged, "I mean, hey, it's not like I wasn't ever going to hear stuff like that. Better it happen now while my father's here to make sure I don't beat somebody up like Hana was liable to do just then."

Hana yanked off a small pouch that had been tied to her belt, sending its coiled rope fluttering through the air as she shoved two fingers inside its opening and grabbing a piece of candy to fill her mouth, deciding to quell her anger in such a way, though it didn't do much to help her stricken face.

"Come on, we've taken too long," Jack confirmed, waving the two along, "Let's hurry back and hope there's no more trouble, alright?"


	13. Monetary Confrontation

Jack led his daughter and officer through the crowd of the 39th pier, along the busied wharf that was abustle with tiny sea crafts, men shouting out as they held up their freshest catch to be sold the locals that packed the edge of the unstable land, desperate for sea-born delicacies. Angela tried her best to keep with her compatriots, though she found it difficult as she also attempted to take in the sights and sounds that left her abuzz with excitement. She was unaware of Hana's still-fuming ears until the officer finally muttered to herself, though with an air of disappointment toward her Captain.

"I can't believe we just let them walk away," she grumbled, heatedly.

Captain Morrison eyed her from the side, "Would you prefer spending the next week in a prison cell? That's undoubtably the consequence of having taken action, especially given those two's status."

Miffed, Hana angrily sputtered, "No! But still, those two are just so- So- Argh! I wish I could just-"

She threw a punch through the air before crossing her arms mutedly, her lips curling into a dark frown as her head fell, "Saying I needed to have a leash put on me… The only monster around here is him."

"Be that as it may, he's still a rather affluent monster," the Captain shrugged, "There are plenty of other ways, that won't imprison us, mind you, to get back at others, officer. You are aboard the Splitstream, correct? We've negated the Shimada's attempts at taking a vice grip along the whole of the Rim for some years; that alone is-"

He turned to meet Hana's bemused face, Jack's voice dropping, "You're not buying that."

She frowned, "Your methods of revenge are quite placid, Captain. No offense."

Jack shrugged, "It's kept me working for many years, Officer. Don't forget that."

Lugging around a small sack of supplies they had procured along the way through the city, slung over her shoulder, Angela asked timidly, "Who were they exactly?"

"The Shimada brothers, Hanzo and Genji," Jack explained, "They run the largest shipping conglomerate in the Pacific, though they mainly operate through subjugation, intimidating local sailors into joining them, MYC as you just saw in their attitude toward Hana and myself."

"They stink of vileness," Hana groaned, bemusedly, "Korea was one of the first countries they came to after they'd dominated Japan's seafaring business. Now our fishermen spend days on end out at sea trying to meet the Shimada's stock."

Angela nodded, lifting the sack up from her shoulder for emphasis, "I'm starting to understand why Officer Song has stuck around for so long, being paid merely in candy."

"We're one of the last companies operating around the Rim that isn't under the thumb of the Shimada's," Jack went on with a proud smile, "Though it hasn't always been easy, we've plenty of clients who are loyal to us, no matter how cheap the Shimadas cost- I'm sure that's one of the things that sticks in their craw, Hanzo specifically."

Angela Peres up toward her father, "Why is that?"

He chuckled, "Because Hanzo Shimada has done everything he has in order to ensure he has a legacy that outlives him. His tireless work has left him without children; all he has is the Shimada Company. For all the tactics he's used to become one of the largest companies, loyalty wasn't exactly a byproduct. The more he sees us, or other smaller companies, that stay in business simply due to the loyalty of so few clients, I've no doubt it bothers him."

Jack turned to his officer with a grin, "You should remember that, Officer Song."

She rolled her eyes, arms crossed, "I still wish I could have tackled them both, but especially that green-haired jerk. Even this taffy isn't help- Okay, maybe a little bit, but still."

Hana frowned while nibbling on another bit from her tiny satchel as the three of them advanced, coming upon the port once again, leaving them in an even more crowded area, Jack making sure to pull his daughter in front of him to keep her nearby. This directing from her father allowed Angela's vision to wander, returning to the same spot where the auction had been going on hours earlier, the tent now seeming nearly empty save for a few crates. Her eyes locked onto the tall crate she'd been intrigued by earlier, even the auctioneer taken aback as he recited the labeling to the crowd as though it were wholly foreign to him.

"And here we've got-! Eh, well, a crate looking to be shipped to 'far away'..?" he spoke, his loud voice descending as his confusion grew, turning to the crowd, "Anybody know where 'far away' is?"

A gaggle of laughter escaped the crowd as one man shouted out, "Ask mah ex-waife!"

The auctioneer allowed a hand to stroke his chin in thought, turning toward who must have been a superior, who merely nodded, the auctioneer shrugging in relinquished care as he returned to his charismatic self, "Well! Payment is to be determined at the conclusion of the delivery! We'll start the bidding at, say, ten doubloons?!"

A pitiful array of hands arose, though before Angela could catch the auction's conclusion, her father had taken her out of sight, leaving her to grab at his wrist as she spun her head over her shoulder, "Father! That crate's only going for ten doubloons!"

"And?" he asked sincerely, "I already told you, only fools or desperate men go for that mess."

Angela retorted, "Its only ten doubloons though! and aren't we going across the Pacific anyway? We're risking nothing!"

Her father grinned playfully, "Angela, you weren't bonding with a piece of cargo when I caught your wrist earlier, were you?"

She frowned at the unpleasant feeling of being condescended to, leaving her father to chuckle, "Why should we even bother with it?"

"I don't know," Angela groaned unhappily, "It's just mysterious is all. Who knows what we'll get if we deliver it."

As though in silent council, Jack turned to his officer, who merely shrugged in reply, before sighing himself, concluding to his daughter, "You've got enough mystery trying to pick up all you have to on this voyage, dear. For that same price, I could feed the crew for a week."

Angela frowned in resignation, not bothering to advance the point further, though she managed a glooming glance back toward the auction area, her brow rising curiously as she muttered quietly, "Green hair..?"

At that, Hana's ears perked, her body whipping to the side where Angela was watching, her teeth barring defiantly as she jumped onto her Captain's back, Jack's body suddenly convulsing suddenly in surprise as she furiously ran her feet along his backside, trying desperately to climb atop his shoulders for a view over the crowd, leaving Jack aflurry with a heated voice.

"O-Ow! H-Hana?! What are you-?!"

"She's right! It's the Shimadas!" she spoke up, too incensed to worry about the scene she was currently causing, "Captain, we've gotta her that crate!"

Jack frowned, finally managing to pull his officer down from his back, letting loose a voice of quelled anger, "Officer Song, another stunt like that and I'll have you reprimanded, understood? Now I've already told you, both, that we are not to act on emotions; I don't care if they were giving that thing away, we have a schedule and we're sticking to it, understood, Officer?!"

Hana frowned, but still managed to bow her head reverently, Yes, Captain…"

"And you, Ange-" he turned to his daughter, only to find her having gone missing, his eyes widening in shock.

He spun his body around, back toward the auction platform, his teeth grinding as Angela was standing alongside the crowd, trying to push her way closer in order to view the crate. Returning to his officer, Jack grumbled angrily, trying his best to control his temper as he began toward the platform with Hana in tow.

"I was told you would be the death of me," he complained weakly, rubbing his face as he and Hana came up from behind is daughter, catching Angela's immediate attention, "As soon as you came into this world, you screamed like you'd been drawn and quartered. Your mother said you'd be a handful."

Undeterred by her father's story, Angela leaned over a roped barrier that cut off the crowd from the auctioneer's platform, simply watching in awe as she spoke up, "This is so exciting! What if it's treasure?! or some of those things they- fossils! It's just a slab of wood away!"

"We're only watching, no bidding," Jack groaned, unsure whether his words had much of any meaning by this point, "If the Shimada's are involved, they're probably just running the prices up to ruin the foolish sailors I mentioned."

A nearby man spun his head around, his crooked teeth barred as he eyed Jack with a sinister glare, the Captain simply shrugging as he muttered back to him, "I'm just teaching my daughter a lesson; cool it."

The stranger returned to the action just as the auctioneer's voice burst back onto the scene, "Forty! Do I hear forty?!"

Just as Jack noticed Genji Shimada's face turning toward their direction, he lowered his head to conceal himself, though it came too late, the man's Japanese accent breaking through the air in a cackle from across the crowd, "Maybe Morrison'd like a shot?!"

Jack felt Hana's hand suddenly clutch his arm, instructing him to retaliate, though Captain Morrison remained stoic, simply watching the auction progress, even as the auctioneer composed himself after the sudden outburst, "Ah, er, w-well, the bidding is commencing along at forty..! Forty doubloons to the Shimada's! Going once! Going twice!"

"Forty!" cried Hana, yanking at Morrison's arm to lift herself up, her shout earning a vicious glare from her Captain.

"Forty! Have I fifty?!"

Captain Morrison reached down to grab Hana's shoulder, pulling her down as he bent low, his eyes strained in controlled anger, "What are you doing?!"

"Fifty!" exclaimed Genji, "Better hurry, Morrison; I'd hate for you to have to spend more money on a shipment than you did on your street rat of a wife."

Jack's face flinched as his head turned gradually back toward the two men across the crowd, Hana reaching up to his wrist and slapping her pocketbook into his hand, "We've got certificates for a hundred. Go to town, sir."

Her Captain yanked his hand away, pocketbook in tow, shooting the two Shimadas a ferocious looking stare as he spoke up lowly, just loud enough to be heard, "Seventy."

The crowd began to speak in hushed whispers, recognizing the inalienable signs of a bidding war between two well-respected sailors, leaving the auctioneer's voice to lighten as well, his heart pounding at being in the middle of the same conflict, "S-Seventy! Do I- Do I hear-?"

"Yes, you fool, you hear eighty!" Genji shouted, wearing a sinister grin, turning his head over his shoulder to share words with his brother.

"Do I hear-"

"Ninety," Jack spoke in repressed tenacity.

Hana bit her lip, knowing this was as far as they went unless the Shimadas gave way, which was a wholly inexplicable occurrence. They never viewed such auctions as opportunities to actually keep bank- they were always to cripple the ones they were bidding against. With the fury in her Captain's eyes, Hana's heart trembled at the thought of him going above and beyond his limit of finances, her own guilty building at her goading him along.

"Ninety!" the auctioneer shouted, "We have ninety doubloons riding on this cargo to Far Away! Does anybody have a counter- Bloody hell!"

The crowd rustled in gradually increasing wonderment, sending Jack and Hana's head's to the side to find Angela hurtling over the barricade, making a mad dash toward the auctioneer's platform with only two soldiers in between the two points. Jack's mind snapped back to reality at the sight, his free hand gripping the rope line in front of him as he watched horror as the soldiers grabbed their batons.

"Angela!" he shouted out in terror, his eyes widening as Angela rushing into arms-length of the two men before her legs collapsed below her, her body sliding in between the two with her knees leading the way, before she hopped back onto her feet, encroaching upon the tall crate with astonishing speed.

Genji nearly tore the rope barricade from its hinges, shouting out in accursed tones, launching himself over the thick barrier and dashing toward the crate himself, "You fools! Stop her!"

The auctioneer, already perturbed by the previous conflict, could only recoil in shock, stepping away as Angela vaulted atop the stage, throwing her hand out and tagging the large crate with an open hand, the loud SMACK echoing out among the crowd as she collapsed onto her tied-up legs, though she remained in possession of the crate, her hand merely sliding down its face.

She turned up toward the auctioneer, her voice in heavy pants as the man stared back at her, terrified, "I- I believe I…claim this shipment in the name…of the Splitstream."

"Bullshit!" Genji cried out, jumping up onto the platform just as the two soldiers arrived, "This is utter bullshit! You two! Have this wench arrested!"

Jack had already hopped over the barrier, fuming at his daughter having been addressed as such, shouting out in reply, "It is not! You two, soldiers, recite to this man the laws regarding the unattendance of shipping materials!"

Genji shot a blood-shot stare toward Captain Morrison, though it was the auctioneer himself who worked up the nerve to intervene, clearing his throat as he spoke up, "Barring the completion of an auction, that is, any shipping material can be physically claimed at the agreed upon rate as presented by the proprietor of the goods. Since this crate, here, has no established rate, and quite frankly, no owner, it's my judgement to send it off for the established rate at auction- ninety doubloons."

"Th-This is-!" Genji fumed, his scheme thwarted.

Jack's gait slowed as he continued toward his daughter, the crowd behind him now growing louder at such a development, leaving the Captain to force his voice louder as he aimed a glance toward the Shimada man, "Perhaps you should read up on the laws around here. Tell your brother, the sun sets here."

Genji's face contorted into a vicious frown, though he ultimately composed himself, turning on his heel and stomping off back toward his brother, leaving Jack to make it over to his daughter, the two soldiers just as baffled as most of the crowd. He reached down and helped her to her feet, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Never have I wanted to punish you more than at this very moment," he spoke up with a hollow voice, "That being said, I've never seen more of your mother in you than just a moment ago."

Confusedly, Angela decided on wearing something of a light smile, unsure of how she should take her father's words, though he still managed to quickly examine her bruised knees, signaling that there wasn't an ounce of love lost between the two of them. He waved for one of the dock attendants to come over and explained where to send the crate, sighing at the man ran off, leaving him with Angela as the two stepped down off the platform as the auctioneer sputtered out words in an attempt at regaining some semblance of normalcy.

"Sorry; that was all I could think of," Angela spoke up with a muted frown, "Especially after what that man said, I- I know that look in your eye. You'd have sold everything for mother's honor. I just figured I'd try something to keep you from losing the last thing you have in the way of a connection to her."

"Something stupid," Jack assured, though a smile peeked our from his face, "Let's get one thing straight, right here and now. The only thing I need to remind me of your mother is the daughter we had together, alright? I wouldn't ever let a memory keep me from loving you, or keeping you safe and prepared for the wild out there, understand?"

Angela nodded as her father directed her underneath the ropes batier where Hana was awaiting with a pensive look on her face now that the dust was settled, Jack following along as he continued, "I'll tell you the same thing I told my crew years ago. Your mother meant the world to me, but she would much rather my crew mean the same in her death. Until she and I meet again, you and my crew are everything to me, and since you're both, now, Angela, that just means I get to consolidate a bit more when it comes to my priorities."

Even Hana's lips fell inward, miffed by the thought of her Captain speaking so reverently of his crewmen, though as the air went still, she managed to speak up quietly, "Y'know, she kinda looked like her for a moment there."

Jack groaned, speaking slightly annoyedly while Angela cracked a grin, "I'm aware of that. Don't encourage her. We made out fine, but there's no telling when such stunts will set you back farther than you'd hoped. In another time, you might be in prison right now."

"But I'm not," Angela assured with an innocent smile, "I told you I'd make a damn good sailor."

Hana eyed her peevishly, "…you sure she isn't the same person..?"

"I can assure you, my officer. I'm just thankful she took after her mother so affluently; I'd have hated for my daughter to be saddled with the old and ragged looks of a father," he sighed, more so in relief than anything else, "Though that means I'm sure to be given the same number of headaches as well…"

Angela only snickered as she threw the bag of candies and other assortments of supplies overtop her shoulder, proudly smiling at, as far as she was concerned, a job well done. a full day of accomplishment.


	14. McCree Comes Aboard

Jesse McCree, second mate aboard the Splitstream, slowly made his way through the crowded port, his son in one arm holding both his arm around his father's neck to secure himself, while Jesse's opposite arm was wrapped around Leslie's body, pulling her against him as they made their trail through the traffic, ensuring the two wouldn't be separated, his daughter being held up in his wife's arms, a look of wonderment on both children's face at the sights and sounds surrounding them.

Nathan's grip tightened in subconscious tension as the mass of bodies thickened, forcing his father's body to sway in between clumps of people as he pulled Leslie in front of them, to keep her in sight, Jesse's voice coming out at steady as always, "It should get better as we get to the docks, don't worry. It tends to be less crowded when it threatens people with falling into the bay."

"It already looks like an ocean of people!" Heather observed, with her brother nodding furiously in agreement.

Jesse smiled lightly, "I suppose it would, yeah. Get a good look; you two will have to help your mother get out of here. Think you two can do that?"

"Yeah!" "Yep!" they cried in unison, sending Leslie's Head back over her shoulder to watch her husband with a playful eye.

"Leaving me in the care of our two children again?" she teased.

He nodded with a knowing smirk, "Hey, I'd bet quite a bit on the two of them. Look at how strong Nathan is; I can feel it around my neck."

Heather spoke up quickly, "Yesterday, he lifted a milk crate right above his head!"

"See?" Jesse assured with a smile, quickly lifting his arm to give his son a playful jolt, "You're probably in better hands than anything I could provide. Anything you can think of that you need before a go?"

Leslie thought to herself for a moment before shaking her head, "Nope. We've got tuition ready for school, plenty in the way of food stores, everything necessary for emergencies."

Jesse smiled, "I wouldn't have this life if not for you managing it all so masterfully."

She cocked a devilish grin, "What is it they say about greater women behind men?"

Her husband rolled his eyes with a light chuckle, "I'm sure you'll have me pleasantly enlightened when I return. I wouldn't want anything less, dear. We're not supposed to be for a couple months, so it won't be as long as-"

"Bay!" cried out Heather excitedly, pointing a tiny finger out toward the circle of water surrounded by the crescent land, "There's the bay!"

The young child began fidgeting in Leslie's arms, the mother trying her best to keep her child aloft as she spoke up, "Heather, calm down! I'll let you down when we get down to the port."

"Eh, let 'em go," Jesse shrugged, "I've got my eyes on 'em. Besides, I have some stuff to go over with you."

"Eww!" "Gross!" came from the two children in disgust.

Jesse smiled, turning to his son, "Now calm your self. I absolutely do not mean I'll be kissing your mother feverishly."

"Eww!" shouted Nathan, though with a giggle this time, as though merely displaying his reaction because of his parents' reaction.

Leslie sighed before bending down, letting Heather slide to her feet as Jesse emulated her, the two children excitedly running off toward the edge of the harbor, dropping onto a sandy embankment that allowed them entry into the waters of the bay, Nathan dropping into the salted water excitedly as Heather looked on, aghast.

Jesse shoved his hands into his pockets, turning to run his eyes along the line of ships in port, spotting the Splitstream as he spoke up, "Are you sure about this?"

"Jesse, your heart belongs out at sea," Leslie answered, slightly disheartened, a teasing smile managing its way across her face, "If not for the sins of the flesh, I doubt you'd have ever wandered into my loving arms to begin with. I don't care about superstition; look at you."

She spun her body so that she faced him, pressing herself closer so as to hide her hand as it reached up into his shirt, her fingers running slowly across the dips and ridges that made up his muscular stomach, her warm hand causing Jesse to tense at the gentle breeze seeming, now, to be biting him. As her hand rubbed against his skin, she was nearly rendered breathless, her mind wandering to any number of nights they had already shared, though she composed herself, running two lost eyes up to meet her husband's with a quiet voice.

"The only thing I need- Who's gonna keep me warm at night?"

Jesse grinned, "The kids. I know you all sleep together when I'm gone; there was that time Nathan kept having nightmares after having to reacquaint himself with sleeping alone"

His wife frowned, "Well, they kick."

"So do you."

Leslie broke a smirk, Jesse not removing his eyes from hers while his arms entangled themselves around her body, pulling her close, "More than anything, I miss that the most when I'm at sea, you know."

"Liar," she smirked, "Looks like I still have a part of you to tame yet."

"Were it a habit in need of breaking," Jesse assured sincerely, lowering his head in a pensive motion as he spoke softly, "I'd already voiced my concerns, but… What if this were my final trip out to sea?"

Leslie sighed defeatedly, her head falling to the side as she watched up toward her husband with saddened eyes, "Jesse, I already told you about these superstitions; you haven't a thing to-"

"I've been putting money aside," he interrupted, lifting his head just enough so his eyes peered through his scraggily vines of dark hair.

His wife's eyes trembled, "…how much?"

"Enough," he answered, "Enough for me to take you three away and live where I want my heart to truly reside. With the sea as my mistress, it's given me nothing but a torn back, cracked skin, and troubled thoughts. With you, I am eased, and I've been given two children. Not much of a competition."

Leslie's eyes fell as she sighed longingly, "I don't- Jesse, this is-"

"Am I so unwanted?" he asked with a teasing air, though he only received a disarming stare in reply.

Her lips tugged unsurely, "It's not that, I- Look, I know you think you can just walk away from that life, but I know you. I speak of it in humorous tones, but I know how much of your heart lies with the ocean. It frightens me to think of us stealing you away and you waking up one day only to decide you're tired of such a life."

Mulling over her words, Jesse bit his lip, knowing full well that this woman had, indeed, come to know him quite a margin better than he did himself. Still, her words caused his heart to ache; he hadn't a single inkling of daring to ever tire of this life he lead at home.

"Okay, how about this," Leslie suggested, "Go enjoy yourself. When you come back, we won't do anything crazy, alright? The kids are starting school, anyway. We'll sit on your earnings and do a trial run of sorts, with the ocean being right down the hill, alright?"

A heavy breath left Jesse's nose as he breathed deep in acquiescence, nodding his head, "Okay. You've not once steered me wrong, my love."

A light sort of chuckle left Leslie as she pressed her body closer into his, resting her cheek against his chest, "You know… When I signed them up for schooling, I had to write my name. Leslie McCree. Kind of nice, I thought."

"I thought you hated it," he replied, his chest rumbling against her as he gave a muted laugh.

"Only the whole 'misses' part. I like seeing your name after mine. Reminds me of how you took my heart, so I had to take your name," she spoke in thoughtful reverence, sighing sweetly at the thought, "Just don't do anything too crazy out there."

Jesse rolled his eyes as a he replied lightly, "You're the only one who says that. Everybody else tells their sailors to come back alive or whatever."

"Well, I know you won't do that; you'll find some way to come back just to tease me about how I should have mentioned that," Leslie teased, "Now come on, it's almost time for you to shove off. Let's go let the kids know and we'll all see you off."

Her husband nodded, taking her hand into his own as the two of them walked down toward the embankment where the two children were still playing some game of tag with the ocean tide rhythmically rolling up the tiny beach. Jesse made sure to pull her close enough to him that her shoulder came up against his arm, leaving her with a gentle giggle like a high school girl being shown off.

"Alright kids, time for me to head on out," Jesse explained, leading to an immediate chorus off 'aww's from the two as they tarried back up the beach as though trying to buy time, though Jesse managed a quick hop down onto the sandy shore, swooping down and reaching around each child's waists, swinging them upside down into the air, leaving them with a bevy of laughter and joyous shrieks as the ground flew away from them.

He mused, turning back to his wife, "That does it; I'm just gonna have to take them with me."

"You wish," she replied with a grin.

Heather was quick to spout out, "But mom! We can fit in a suitcase! We'll be good!"

"Yeah!" shouted Nathan in chorus.

Leslie eyed her husband with a droll expression, hoping he'd noticed what he had started, though as he returned the two to the ground, groaning as he did so, Jesse began, "No, no; mother's right."

He pointed up to his forehead, "You two need to be strong up here before you can be strong out there, right? So get your schoolwork done once you start all that. I never had the chance to learn all that stuff, so make sure you two make the most of it, alright?"

"But daddy!" "Dad!" came the replies.

Jesse frowned weakly, "Now I don't want to hear that, you two. Be good for your mother, alright? and if you're good, I might just bring you back something neat, okay?"

"Like a panda?!" Heather exclaimed in awe.

"No no! A chest full of treasure!" came Nathan's request.

Jesse stroked his chin, "Well, if you're good, who know what I'll bring."

He turned up to his wife with a critiquing glance, "That goes for you, too."

"Pfft, what am I gonna do?" she scoffed with a wry sort of smirk as Jesse stepped back up onto the dock, taking her into a hug before reaching his head back around to offer her a kiss, accompanied by another ritualized set of 'eww's from the kids.

"Just don't do anything too crazy back here," he repeated with a grin, forcing a playful punch from Leslie as her eyes rolled.

"Oh hush," was all she could manage, lost in the man she had married, still very much a teasing boy at heart, that attitude of his keeping the both of them younger than their bodies had become.

Jesse made sure to bend down and hug each of his children, kissing them both upon their foreheads, before doing the same thing for the woman he loved, readying his backpack over his shoulder as he stepped away backward, keeping them in his sight until the crowd between them grew too dense for them to be seen. He then turned round, making his way through the mass of bodies when, suddenly, he heard a piercingly loud pair of voices break the air, albeit faintly by this distance.

"Bye dad!" "Bye dad!"

He could only smirk, catching a curious glance from some old timer on the pier, Jesse nodding proudly to him as he rounded his way onto the lengthy dock, making careful steps toward where the Splitstream sat floating atop the waters, his brow furrowing as he came closer to the vessel. He reached into his backpack for a tiny pocket watch, finding it strange for Captain Morrison to be loading cargo this close to their departure. He increased his gait, now strolling along the dock until he could examine the crate being slid up the ramp up onto the ship, his confusion only increasing as he turned toward his Captain, who was supervising the effort from up aboard the Splitstream, instructing the dockhands pushing the crate aboard.

"Jack!" Jesse shouted, the Captain's head turning toward him with a start.

Morrison waved him aboard, Jesse making the effort to speed up the ramp, crouching low and helping the men with a final budge until the crate hit the deck, leaving it for the crew to take over. Captain Morrison appreciatively handed the dockhands a handful of coins each before shaking each of their hands and sending them off with thanks, turning to Jesse with a droll look on his face.

"I thought only stupid men go to those auctions," Jesse noted with a cheeky grin.

Jack's head rolled along his shoulders in exasperation, "There's a first time for everything, McCree. This won't be the only example of that, I assure you."

"Oh?" Jesse wondered, "Did Lena manage to sit still for a full minute? or did Lucio finally make up a decent chili? Don't tell me you're engaged, Jack."

The Captain frowned, "No… You remember my daughter, Angela, right?"

Jesse thought for a moment before offering a nod, "Yeah; it must'a been back when she was still an infant when I came by. She ain't aboard, is she?"

Jack nodded, leaving Jesse with a surprised expression, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head, "Fuck. It's been that many years already?"

"Seems so," Jack agreed with a smirk, "You think you're old; think how I feel! She's been taking to everything as quickly as I could have expected, given her parents, but I'd like her to get really acquainted with you and your work. I don't think any of my crewmen would take much of any offense to me saying you're the best of any of us aboard."

Jesse frowned, "Now, I ain't the best, Jack. I'm just the one whose crazy enough to get some of that shit done."

"Still, without you having her spear fish off the stern side, I'd like her to learn a thing or two from you if at all possible," Jack sighed, reaching over to pat the crate, "Obviously, I'm doing a piss-poor job at being an exemplary sailor for her to learn from."

"Where's it going, anyway?"

"All it said was 'far away', which is where we're headed. Don't ask about the payment," Jack groaned, turning back onto the deck and making his way toward the wall that made up the entryway into the ship, pulling open a block of wood that slid along its frame to reveal a small hole in the woodwork, his mouth reaching over to bark aloud, "Jamison! Lucio! Report to the deck!"

He slid it closed once again, turning back to Jesse, who was already ascertaining how to move the giant crate, throwing his pack to the side and stretching his back with two deliberate twists at his waist, "Ready and willing, Captain."

Jack nodded in approval, though before he could reply, he was interrupted by the gradually increasing pitter-patter of feet up the stairwell, just managing to step out from the doorway as Angela excitedly leapt out onto the deck with an exuberant voice, "Is it here?! What all's- Oh, hello. Jesse?"

'Jesse McCree, Second Mate aboard the Splitstream, yes'm," the man introduced, bowing his head respectfully, "'n you're Angela Morrison, knee high to a pig's eye, at least last time I saw you."

Angela's face fell in utter lack of enthusiasm, her eyes slowly crawling toward her father as she muttered aloud in a droll tone, "You didn't tell me he was a dad."

"What?"

"That was totally something only a dad would ever say," she frowned, though as she returned to Jesse, she grinned as the second mate was chuckling under his breath, leaning an arm atop the crate as he eyed his captain.

"Guess that's why I picked it up from your old man," he teased with childish abandon.

Jack grumbled lowly as he threw a hand into the air, "Just- get that thing below deck, will ya, McCree..?"

"Aye aye, Jack.."

"Aye aye, dad!"

Captain Morrison's shoulders tensed before turning around slowly, staring the two down from over his shoulder, "That's 'father', to you. and 'captain' to you."

He knew he couldn't do much of anything to quell the laughter building up behind Angela's careful hand, though she politely did her best to remain quiet amidst her father's serious tone. She turned to help Jesse lean the crate near its side as Junkrat and Lucio scampered onto the deck, the four of them carrying the giant piece of cargo into the hull as Captain Morrison looked on with a sigh, this journey already proving to be far out of the routine he'd come to love about these trips.


	15. A Fright in the Cargo Hold

As the days passed, Angela had made her way around every book and cranny of the Splitstream, becoming quite the quick study in the process, picking up whatever the other crewmen put down upon her, save for the crow's nest, which she hadn't returned to since her first venture up there, which was all well and good in Lena's mind, not having to share her little hideaway. Jesse, in his turn, did as the Captain had ordered, having Angela shadow him on most of his assignments which, as a second mate, were quite broad.

While he and Lena often worked along the same lines, she was in charge of lookout duty, leaving Jesse in charge of her chores as well during those times; however, in addition to Lena's safety and security detail, Jesse oversaw the deck department, that usually being anything on the deck itself, which explained to Angela how this man could have so many stories involving fishing from the very deck he was to oversee.

"Junkie started throwing some explosives in the water, trying to stun the thing so I could reel it in; it was pretty nuts," Jesse recalled as he pulled a telescope up to his eye to check its calibration, "It didn't do much of anything to the fish, probably because it turned out to be a log. Still though, it was a blast."

"Hehe ha!" came Lena's voice from above the two of them.

Jesse merely shrugged as he fiddled with the tiny metal rod that stick out of the scope, calibrating it as he aimed toward a distant island in the distance, "Looks good. Adjustments seem to be in line with what they should be. Here."

He handed the telescope to Angela, who handing him a new one back before she returned the one that had just been tested back into a small chest that held the lot of them, returning to Jesse as he brought the next telescope to his eye once again, Angela sighing lightly, catching Jesse's attention as he spoke up, "Already bored?"

"N-No! I just-!"

Jesse shrugged, "Good thing about captaincy is that you get to delegate out all the boring stuff. Don't worry though; once we get to some of the duties above my rank, it'll be a bit more engaging."

Angela's brow curled, "Above… Oh, first mate? I was beginning to wonder who was the first mate- why are you both?"

"If you have to ask," Jesse began, pulling his hands away as his head turned toward his apprentice, "You haven't been paying much attention to this ship's history."

Suddenly, Angela's gut churned in a sickly realization, her voice lowering as she muttered, "Oh… Right."

"He offered, but- I ain't about to take a dead woman's spot, y'know? That's all kinds of bad juju right there. No offense," he apologized as he returned to his work.

"Oh, no, I understand."

"Besides, I always got the feelin' he didn't want it replaced. So I just sorta became the… What's the thing, de jure?"

Angela smiled politely as she offered, helpfully, "de facto."

"The de facto first mate," Jesse nodded in appreciation, "I just thought-"

"YO JESSE!" came Lena's massive voice that carried like her body zooming across the deck, "Net's needing to come up!"

He threw a thumbs up into the air before turning to Angela, putting away the telescope and the case as he instructed, "Well, for all the stuff you've taken to with so little effort, here's somethin' you probably can't."

Jesse smirked before walking across the deck toward the starboard side, cracking his knuckles as he continued, "You might be a prodigy alright, but there are some things everybody just can't do."

"We'll see about that," Angela contradicted with a smirk, though it only led to Jesse chuckling, amused by her spunk.

He came across the short wall that edged the ship, leaning over and dipping his arms along the boat's side, taking hold of a single rope that led down into the ocean waters, coiling it around his torso and along his arm until it grew taut. Digging a single knee into the ship's edging, Jesse yanked himself upward, gritting his teeth as he pulled at the rope, grabbing at the rope with both arms until the muscles along his entire body constructed mightily, Angela's eyes growing wide at the side. The man's body seemed more like a machine as he slowly climbed his arms along the thick rope, sending Angela's eyes overboard as she watch what he'd been pulling, a large bulb of netting gradually emerging from the ocean.

"Wow," was all she could mutter under her breath at the spectacle, Jesse grunting with a bestial sort of vigor as he gradually conquered the line, continuing from early through a strained voice, "I don't think your father wanted the vacancy filled, but at the same time, there's a lot of ship owners that'd pay me a killing to captain their boat. I think he was trying to keep me promoted to keep me aboard the Splitstream, though he must now be feeling guilty for preventing me from fulfilling what he believes to be my potential."

Still half in surprise by the sight of Jesse toting the heavy the line, Angela just managed, "Well, why do you stay? Why not captain elsewhere for more money?"

A cocky smirk stretched across Jesse's tanned face, redness setting in as he strained, "Be- cause… Captain Morrison gave me an opportunity when nobody else would've. That means more to me than any amount of money."

Jesse grunting mightily as he retrieved the seemingly endless line of rope, finally pulling the netting onboard before dropping onto the deck, sitting there with his arm hanging overtop his knee, gasping for breaths as he stared at the pile of netting and fish.

He huffed with a frown, critiquing their catch with a sigh, "And that's how we catch dinner. What little of it in this case; Lucio ain't gonna be much happy with it."

The sliding sound of Lena descending from the nest broke the air, the spry woman also wearing a dissatisfied look as she stopped with her fists on her waist, "Ouch. These waters have never been much good for fishing, but this is pitiful!"

Angela caught Jesse's distant stare as her brow curled in melancholy, Lena groaning as she began pulling at the large net to dump out the small amount of fish that began flopping atop the deck, "Don't worry! This net ain't goin' nowhere! We'll get 'em next time; those fish'll learn to fear the name of Lena Oxton, just wa- Ow! Spiny little devil, ain't ya? Ow! Bollocks!"

Jesse slowly pulled the lengthy rope from around his body, frowning still as he shook his head, allowing Lena to help remove the remaining bit so she could drop the line once again. He made it back to his feet before staring off into the distance with regretful eyes, Angela frowning in silent questioning as he began to walk off, her feet diligently working to catch up to him as she spoke up.

"What, you think this is about that albatross?" she asked incredulously.

He didn't reply immediately, merely beginning to toss the fish into a water-filled barrel for fresh keeping, "This is how it starts. I shouldn't have come."

"Oh come on, that was just a stupid little thing; just watch. Next time, there'll be plenty of fish!" she spoke with a lively voice.

Jesse eyed her, "I always appreciate youthful optimism, but your outlook won't do me any good, kid. I have a wife and kids to think about; I can't afford to be optimistic."

He grumbled along quietly to himself, though Angela absently helped collect the fish herself, cursing under her breath as they fluttered out of her hands and into the air. Jesse eyed her as she shifted along the deck, her feet flying each time she stood atop a slick patch of wood, her arms flying out to balance herself as she did so, the seadog barking out in instruction as he rose to his feet.

"By the teeth! They don't bite, y'know."

Angela nodded, circling the fish until she reached its front end, taking a deep breath before swooping her thumb into its mouth and raising it up in her hand as its tail flapped in the cool, salty air. Lena applauded as she returned, even whistling in admiration as Angela carefully dropped the creature into the watered barrel.

"Woo hoo!" she cheered, still applauding as she turned to Jesse, "Not bad, eh?"

Jesse nodded, "They usually chicken out if I admit to 'em that they bite."

"What?!" Angela cried out, whipping around to a chuckling Jesse.

Lena patted her hands together in finality as she spoke up in an orderly tone, "Alright Mr. McCree, the net its back in the waters! prepared ta take on its fill of hearty fishes once more!"

"At ease, Oxton," he replied, shaking his head, "You know I hate all that garbage."

Lena teased with her tongue stretched out past her lips, "Why'd'ya think I do it?"

Jesse sighed, running a hand across his face as Lucio's voice joined them, his feet plopping along speedily as his voice carried his excitement, "We got our catch in, J?!"

The second mate shrugged defeatedly, "I mean, we caught, yeah."

Lucio examines the fish still flopping on deck as well as what had already been tossed into the barrel, his fingers stroking the skin at either side of his lips as he spoke up, wearily, "Wow… Ain't ever seen it this low before."

Jesse gave Angela a glance that she quickly refuted with rolling eyes. Lucio proceeded to slap the wooden top of the container before raising his arms in the air in indifference, not quite admitting defeat as he hopefully spoke.

"We'll get 'em next time, though! These tiny ones, I can still work with, we'll just be havin' to eat a bit light is all," he explained, thinking of their stores, "Hopefully there'll be more on the horizon! Let's see… Grill the meat, whip up a broth with the bones and skins, add a roux… Maybe a seafood purée with some of the jerky we have and- Lena?"

The troupe turned to their third mate, whose arms were stretched out before her, her hands groping at the air as she drooled, her voice quivering longingly in reply, "Mmm… Sounds good…"

"Yeah it does!" Lucio shouted heroically, throwing a hand in the air with a wielded ladle from nowhere, earning him a critical glance from his superior.

Jesse sighed, "Alright, alright. You both, back to work. Angela, I'll get these fish up and you can head down into the hold and check our cargo."

"What?" she wondered with a pleading sort of voice, "You saw me; I can still help with the fish."

He nodded, "I did, good job. but I can't get in between those crates like you probably can. There's a reason primage gets thrown around, we have to make sure everything gets towed tip-top. We can't have a single thing out of line when they open those boxes, and after roiling, stormy seas, especially, we have to be vigilant. This will just be a quick thing though."

"Okay…" Angela muttered in reply, quietly going over his words in her head, "What do I do exactly?"

Jesse answered attentively, "Just check and see that they're not scuffin' up against one another, check for leaks from liquid cargo; just makin' sure it's all looking good down there. Jack has some actually sheets of paper he uses at checklists to give to the recipient, so probably find him first."

Still slightly perturbed at being relegated away from her newest success, Angela only nodded in acceptance before turning away to return to the hull, stepping down the flight of stairs and past Officer Song's 'closet', aiming a curious glance to find Hana still bent over the desk as if she hadn't moved since she last saw her there hours earlier. Continuing down, she passed the stairwell that broke away to lead to the true hull of the Splitstream, where she could hear some muffled laughter from Junkrat, who must have stumbled across a new use for the ship's store of gunpowder or something.

Before she could find her way down into the storage compartment, which, despite its name, was massive enough for most of their cargo to be lowered down through the two trap-doors, she stumbled across her father, who was so lost in the paperwork in his hand that the two nearly ran into one another, quickly leading to his apologizing.

"Sorry about that, dear," he quickly spoke up, reaching out to give an apologetic pat on her shoulder, "I get a bit focused when I'm charting navigation routes in case we need a quick pit-stop. What are you doing down here?"

She frowned, "Well, I was showing off my exceptional fish-grabbing skills when Jess-"

"Ahem," her father interrupted, clearing his throat dramatically.

"When Mr. McCree told me to come check the cargo? I don't know. He mentioned you had a checklist and stuff for it. I guess that primage really does include care, huh?"

Her father nodded, "Oh, definitely. It takes an immense level of trust to allow property to exchange hands like that; it's one of those things that separates us from the animals. Now, head on down there and I'll run up and get a cargo sheet for you to look at. Make sure everything is secure."

Angela nodded, taking a step down the stairs when her father spoke back up, "And Angela."

She paused, turning her head over her shoulder as he finished, "Don't touch that crate."

"Fath- Captain! I wasn't even thinking of that thing!" she complained, "What do you take me for?"

He smirked, "My daughter, for a start. I know you too well, sweetheart. Look, don't touch, alright? I have enough to go over without my daughter putting things out of place."

Angela groaned, rather perturbed by his mistrust, though she still agreed before making her way down the stairs, her mind now focused on the mystery crate when it truly had left her mind. She snuck a peek back over her shoulder before crossing the threshold into the cargo hold, walking around the giant boxes that greeted her and making her way deeper into the hold, catching a glimpse of the 'Far Away' box that sat just beside the gliding light that fell through the holed ceiling above from two floors up. She rounded it once, examining all four of its faces, keeping an ear out for any sign of her father's approach.

"Hmm," she hummed to herself quietly, reaching to massage her chin as she pondered, her curiosity building like a cup of liquid about to collapse over the brim.

She carefully reached out her hand, running it down the wooden face, her skin catching the jagged lines of woodcuts that ran along the various planks that made up its shape, her spine shivering at the touch. As she stepped slowly around, her hand trailing behind her, still massaging the wood as though attempting to ascertain the source of the lumber itself, her mind wandered to what might be held within. Perhaps it was just a prank? but maybe it wasn't? Perhaps it was gold, or Ancient Egyptian trinkets, or something far more outlandish?

She paused, suddenly, her eyes latching onto the sight of a knothole that sat empty, revealing a method at seeing within. A chill ran through her at the thought of doing so; not only was she deliberately disobeying her father and Captain, she had no idea what she might see… Still, her curiosity grew with thoughts of grandeur- it wasn't as though she were ruining anything, anyway; she was simply taking a lot after all.

Angela fell to her knee, leaning forward slightly before her neck creased, her single eye peeking through the knothole. She found nothing but darkness there, which she had expected, though she was still left unsatisfied. She pulled her head back to allow some light to enter the small hole, and sure enough, she found a golden brown sort of outline within the knothole, adding to her curiosity. It seemed like a gem or something, perhaps an opal surrounded by something else to protect it- it could be anything! Perhaps they had stumbled upon the motherlode! A trove of gemstones, sitting right in their hold, with nary an owner to claim them!

Angela's lips curled into a grin at the thought, figuring that she might could retire much earlier than she'd ever expected. Perhaps she could purchase her own ship? Maybe vacation around the world, seeing all the sights she had only ever seen in-

The gem blinked.

Angela gasped, her body immediately falling backward as she fell sitting against the crate behind her, her heart's beating quickening rapidly as she was left breathless. Someone was in there, she thought. She was choked as her airway constricted in horror, though she managed a subtle cry as she jumped to her feet, quickly starting a dash toward the entryway.

"F-Father!" she cried out in a freakish shout.

In a split second, her neck whipped around in utter shock at the sound of nails being torn from wood, the mystery crate's face falling open to revealing a person there, who'd emerged in a mad sprint to catch Angela, her eyes widening in astonishment as she rushed on, desperate to keep away, when a fierce clutch grasped around her arm, yanking her backward as Angela gasped frightfully, working up a blood-curdling scream, when a powerful hand covered her mouth, and arm wrapping around her waist, leaving Angela's shouting muffled as she let loose into her covered scream, tears pouring from her eyes from the sheer horror of it all.

"Hush!" came a quiet voice from behind her head, a surprisingly feminine sort of voice, "If you make another sound, I'll make sure it's your last!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the rushed chapter, but people were wondering where certain characters were, so...surprise! ;p


	16. Stowaway

Angela began throwing her body around in the stranger's arms, violently trying to break free as her crippling fear dissolved into action, leaving her captor forced to strengthen their grip as another richly feminine voice broke past Angela's ear, tinged with strain, "Cut it out, dammit! I swear, I'll-"

Angela's foot made a swift kick straight back into her captor's leg, though it didn't have the desired effect. Instead of freeing her, it merely led to the two of them falling to the floor as the stranger gasped in pain, though she hadn't relinquished her grip on either Angela's face or her waist, merely cursing under a heavied, pained voice, "I swear to fuck, girl, you'd better cut this out and start listening to me!"

Between the shock of having fallen down atop this person and the tension having slightly dropped in time, now that Angela slowly began to realize her life was not in danger as she'd though, plus the unmistakable voice of a woman, Angela gradually stopped resisting, though her eyes still remained sour as she stared up toward the ceiling with a furious stare at being restrained.

"Alright," came the voice, "You're not going to scream or run away, are you?"

Her hand cupping Angela's face with such strength, she was unable to nod, leaving the stranger with a sigh before relinquishing her grip, repeating, "You're not going to-"

"FATH-!"

The stranger spun onto her side, sending Angela's body onto the hard floor for only a brief second before she found her mouth once again covered, though now the stranger was atop of her. Angela's eyes widened as her assailant's angry eyes met her own. She was, indeed, a woman; tanned that same golden-brown she'd seen in the knothole of the crate, black hair wildly falling down past her face as her teeth barred in open strain at Angela's defiance.

"I swear to god, girl, if you- Argh," she groaned, knowing by now that threats weren't going to work, choosing a different angle as her eyes ran along the walls of the cargo hold, "Look, I'm not a stowaway; I've got everything I need to survive in my box over there, okay? I'm not interested in stealing anything, so just- Don't tell anybody I'm down here, alright? I'm just trying to get-"

"Angela?" came Captain Morrison's voice from outside the room, leaving the stranger's head bolting upward with a tense expression.

As she did so, her necklace fell from its tucked-in spot along one of her shirt buttons, it's glimmer catching Angela's eye just as the woman returned her eyes to her, a sudden, hastened whisper leaving her, "What, you want this? Here, just keep quiet, alright?!"

She tore the necklace from her neck before dropping it atop Angela's torso, in exchange for her silence, quickly hopping to her feet and rushing to settle into the opened crate, eyeing Angela critically as she reached down for the panel that had been torn off, simply pulling it against the rest of the box, unable to take the time to hammer the nails back in, sliding the edges of the displaced board into place.

Angela watched the large box in confusion, the last few minutes having left her mind in a whirl, and by the time she had returned to her feet, her father had already half-stepped into the hold, his head turned as though searching for her, "There you are. Did you fall? The floor is gradated in some spots to keep stuff still, you need to keep an eye out."

He continued as he lifted a sheet of paper into the air, "Here you go. Did yo come across anything unexpected?"

Angela eyed him pithily, his chosen words unable to be any more appropriate, she thought. Her father watched her in growing confusion from her silence, though as Angela stepped forward, careful not to step on the necklace that had fallen to the floor as she stood, she wore a detested face, unable to waver from the feeling of being restrained against her will as she'd been.

"You want unexpected?" she asked, gravely.

Her father's glance grew serious as Angela shoved her fingers in the space where the nails of the board kept from an even fit, suddenly yanking the large face of the crate and letting it fall to the floor, the woman inside staring toward Angela with a disgusted face. Jack's face, on the other hand, widened in horror.

"Angela," he muttered quietly, his voice deepening in gravity, "Call the crew together. We need to vote on how to deal with this stowaway."

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Jack dragged the stowaway by the collar up onto the deck, throwing open the door with a swift kick to find his crew having all been assembled while he roped up their 'guest'. He threw her forward, her body rolling along the deck, much to the astonishment of everybody present, save for Angela, the stowaway grunting painfully, still snarling defiantly as she eyed the people circled around her in curiosity.

"We got us a stowaway, crew," Jack explained gravely, "By the rules of the sea, of this stowaway is willing to steal our stores to survive, they forfeit their right to a trial by jury. We're out here on a wooden nation; this stowaway's life belongs to us."

Angela eyed her father with a slight sense of grief, not having understood the severity of such a situation, though she remained quiet nonetheless as Captain Morrison continued, "I already have it in my mind to send this stowaway overboard, but I'm not a one-man crew. We're going to vote on it. It's all of your food after all."

Lucio gasped, "You think she would'a taken Bastion for a meal?!"

The stowaway snarled, "I fuckin' told you! I brought enough stores! Had that woman not found me, I wouldn't have disturbed any of you!"

With a huff, Jack nodded, "It is as she says; I did find a bit of her own stores. No telling how long it would have taken for her to make herself comfortable aboard the ship as a whole, however."

"I wouldn't have even dared!" she shouted.

Breaking through the tense discussion, Junkrat shoves his pegged leg into the deck with a *clunk* before angrily shouting, "I say we strap 'er to a rock! Just like that Prometh'us guy! Use 'er for target practice; at least th'n we'd git some use outta 'er!"

Hana chimed in, "I agree, Captain. As soon as you gain a rep as a stowaway ship, you can barely get a man to pay his own way across the sea. Nobody'd ship anything aboard this vessel again."

As they made their case, Lena fiddled with her chin in thought, though it was Jesse that spoke up next, "It bothered you too, huh, Cap?"

Jack frowned as Jesse continued, "Not once did you refer to the stowaway as to what they are. You could throw a man off a cliff and receive hardly a second glance. A woman is a different tale entirely."

"Eh, who gives a rat?!" Junkrat shouted, "Man or woman, she knew what she was doin' 'soon as she hopped in that crate o' 'ers!"

Before he could be rebutted, Lena stepped through the group, crouching beside the stowaway and carefully brushing the hair out from her face, must to the captor's surprise, Lena asking calmly with a serious face, "What's your name?"

"Well you can't name it!" Hana cried, "You can't judge fairly as soon as you-!"

"She's still a human, Officer," Jesse shrugged, "Least we can do is understand her circumstances. What would we be if we treated cargo with such care, yet throw a person off at the slightest provocation?"

Hana frowned, hating to straw from proper protocol, though as Jesse finished his point, the stowaway looked around, gingerly, her voice breaking out I surely, "F-Fareeha. Fareeha Amari."

"Alright Fareeha, where ya from?" Lena went on.

Her eyes shifted suspiciously, "…Egypt. Spent most of my time in Greece."

"Well, she's a long way from home," Lucio shrugged, "Seems like a stupid thing to come all this way just to become a stowaway, you think?"

"'Ey! We don't need any assumptions!" Junkrat shouted.

Jesse whipped his neck around, "Oh hush; we all know you just want something to shoot at, Junkie."

Their boatswain frowned, shoving his hands into his pocket defector as he frowned, "Still…"

"Nevertheless," Captain Morrison interjected, "She is a stowaway. That's a crime. I don't trust her so far as I can throw her, so bringing her aboard is out of the question. We'll vote on it- keeping her tied up in the hold and turning her over to the authorities at the conclusion of our trip, or settling the issue right here and now and tossing her. Let's hear the first one. We keep her."

Lena's hand shot up, followed by a peevish raising of Lucio's, with Jesse lifting a finger in casting his vote. That did it.

"Four to three," Jack spoke, gravely.

He bent down, taking a tight grasp around the ropes of Fareeha's wrists, the stowaway immediately beginning to panic as he began dragging her of from the deck, her voice a furious spatter if pleas, "W-Wait! Please! Sir, I'll work! I meant no ha- Please!"

Jack's face remained unmoved as he advanced toward the edge, the crew behind him in various stages of discomfort at the scene before them. They had all seen the same event play out before. To be a stowaway was akin to stealing, and in a situation such as living aboard a ship, when rations were everything, a stowaway could be the difference between a crewman surviving the trip or perishing along the way. They all knew it.

All of them besides their newest member.

Angela's chest tugged mightily under the weight of the woman's pleas, a weakness settling in at either of her knees as she shook, both detested at the act as much as she was horrified by what her father was doing. He didn't even bother to speak as the stowaway desperately threw her knees along the deck in a vain attempt to prevent her incoming death beneath the waves.

"Sir, don't-! You don't know what you're doing! Just- Please! Please, sir! Please!"

She suddenly fell, hitting the ground, curled up from her bindings as she shook, her body severely addled from her current predicament. Expected to be kicked overboard, however, she was met with nothing. She merely remained there along the deck; even with her face unable to see as she was, she could feel the tension in the air from an unknown source, though it still caused a chill to run up her spine.

Just as suddenly as she'd been dropped by the Captain, he grabbed her once again, though this time, she was being slid in the opposite direction, a wave of astonishment overflowing from within her. She managed to lift her head, her eyes widening in shock as she watched the girl she'd very nearly tackled down below in the hold, her hand raised as she watched Fareeha being dragged off to be sequestered in the same hold where the two had first encountered one another.


	17. Heated Debates

Jack hunched overtop his desk, scribbling down notes amidst the stray pile of the paper that collected all over his desk's top, unable to truly focus. He'd never been one to become fazed by such brutishly necessary actions as tossing a stowaway overboard, yet he'd already determined what had been different in this particular case. What he hadn't an answer for, however, was in own action; he'd already decided what course to take. He'd held a vote, and the stowaway was marked for death; he'd dragged her toward the port side…and yet he paused and looked back over his shoulder, as though expecting his daughter to object.

He ran a hand along his face as an exasperated sigh left him. Angela had made a sound; she'd merely raised her hand in objection. Was she so certain, so confident, that he'd take another glance back toward the group? He couldn't be sure, but could it be, for all he knew about who his daughter was, perhaps she knew just as much about him? Such an idea frightened him, though even then, he didn't know why. Regardless, with a stowaway aboard, he suddenly felt a lack of routine, and that meant a lack of certainty, caution- two of the 'C's he'd had drawn up on a poster and nailed to the kitchen wall years ago, the others being 'consideration' and 'confidence'. Angela knew them all to well, having seen it during her nightly snacks beneath the lightly-watchful eyes of sitters.

A knock broke his train of thought, and he quickly brushed the hair from his face as he sat back in his chair to offer some semblance of leadership as he spoke up, "Yes, come in."

A slow creaking arose as the door swung open to gradually reveal his daughter's face, Angela's expression having been rather dark since the on-deck event an hour ago. Still, she took a step into the cabin and closed the door behind her, stepping back to lean against it as if to prevent anybody from listening in.

"She's in the hold," she spoke up guiltily, rolling her tongue along the inside her teeth as she fought for further conversation, "She's been given enough rope to get into her crate for her own rations- Junkrat has a hell of a time trying to tie an appropriate knot…"

Her father nodded in understanding, Angela was met with only silence as he silently returned to his work, leaving his daughter running a thumb along her fingers, lowering her head as she quietly spoke up, "Mr. McCree sent me back up here. said you wanted to see me after we'd finished."

Captain Morrison nodded with a sigh, dropping his pencil onto his desk with a tiny *thunk* the air was so silent, pushing himself back into his chair as he eyed his daughter with low eyes, "I know you always wanted this sailing thing to be adventurous, and you hadn't much reason to know or understand some of the darker sides of it, but I just want you to understand, now-"

"I understand, father," Angela interrupted, waveringly.

He bit his lip, "If we allow stowaways… You get a reputation, and you get people sneaking aboard, stealing stores and rations, tip-toeing around at night with god knows what in their heads. The threat of death keeps many from attempting it- a sort of, uh, law and order on the sea."

His eyes raised to meet her distant eyes, "You, my crew- you all mean the world to me, and I wouldn't ever dare to threaten any of your lives because a stowaway stole too much food under our noses or met one of you with a knife in the dark."

Quietly, he released another sigh, this one far more pained than the last, as he fumbled along toward the crux of his words, "I just don't want you to think I'm some heartless monster."

"It's the sea, father. I understand," Angela assured, her downtrodden mood betraying her words, "I truly do."

Jack nodded sullenly, leaning back over his desk, "Good. I derive no pleasure from such things. I can trust my crewmen with my life; I can't say a stowaway would ever extend the same courtesy."

"How many…" Angela quietly wondered, "How many have you-…"

"As Captain? None. This was the first time I'd had a stowaway leave port with us; we're usually rigorous enough. Given how late we got that thing aboard, we just hadn't the time to fully examine it, especially given that we purchased its rights at auction," Jack explained, calmly, "In my past, as a deck hand and mate…maybe four? Two of them by my hand."

Angela's eyes caught him sadly, forcing him to go on, "You normally just toss them without a second thought. You don't want to know them. This one being a woman… I couldn't help but offer it up for a vote. Then some of you got invested in her name, her story- I feared such a thing. So long as she can survive on her own stores, my mind is, at least, eased somewhat."

Angela nodded sadly, though she still felt slightly empty by the inhumanity of it all. While it comforted her, slightly, to understand that, at the very least, it wasn't a localized sort of thing by her father- by his own tone, he seemed to regret being forced to do such things. She didn't want to believe that she could think any less of this one man she called 'father'.

"Are you going to check on her?" she wondered curiously.

Her father nodded, "I'll have Hana and Junkrat down there from time to time. They were most emphatic in defense of tossing her, so I won't have to worry much."

Angela's ears perked up at his words. Worried? Worried about what? she wondered. Her eyes suddenly jumped up toward her father, meet his own glance as he began to understand that she hadn't thought of his course of action. Jack's lips tugged distastefully as his brow fell, knowing, too, how his daughter should react to such a thing.

"I don't want you down there," he spoke, gravely, "I know you. You'll get to know her, and your affinity for adventure and all tha-"

"What?" Angela retorted incredulously, "You think- Why on earth would you-?!"

She stopped herself, her face turning serious in an accusing sort of stare, as she bit the air before her, "Oh I get it. It's because I told you that I'm-"

"Angela!" Jack interrupted with a shout, slamming a fist into his desk for emphasis, nearly rising to his feet in the process.

Had she not already been against the door, she'd have recoiled, but Angela could merely flinch in response to her father's suddenness, quickly calming herself as Jack lowered his shoulders, standing there with a pensive stare, as though peering right through his daughter.

He spoke cooly, "If you would ever presume that I would ever treat you different from anybody else for any reason, I'd be more than happy to toss you in the brig for insubordination, like I would do for anyone under my command. You are my crewman, but you will always be my daughter first, and I wouldn't dare presume to send you off, alone, with a stranger, much less one with a penchant for subterfuge. If you believe my care has to do with anything further than your own safety, you're sadly mistaken, and quite frankly, you insult the man I've spent the last fifty years trying to become."

He slowly descended back into his chair, taking in s deep breath as he did so, eyes closed, before finishing, "Have you anything more to say, Angela?"

She shook her head gingerly, though it was her silence that informed her father, who simply spoke up quietly, "Good. You have your orders, dear."

Jack returned to his papers, living Angela to spin around and leave the room, slightly shaken by her father's stand. She'd had thoughts of her father doing as he'd just claimed, treating her no different for anything other than her lack of experience upon this ship; even the crew partook in very same judgement of her. Still, it hadn't ever been explicitly told her her, and especially not after she'd accused him of doing much the opposite.

Even after what had just happened, however, she couldn't help but have her curiosity piqued as she turned her head down the stairwell, thinking of the near-feral stowaway that had nearly frightened her to a premature death. She frowned, shoving her hand into her pocket and taking hold of the necklace that sat there, her brow curling in thought as she wondered what to do in order to get back at that woman for trying to subdue her.

Ultimately turning to make her way back up toward the deck, Angela let the matter be, dropping the glass jewelry back into her pocket's depths, thinking little of that stowaway whom she'd saved, despite her ferocity. Her mind gave a cursory thought to why she had done so, simply chalking it up to not wanting to see anybody die before her eyes. Even so, it fascinated her why she'd waited to act. why it seemed as thought her father had expected to, shooting a look back toward her after the fact.

She was lost in thought, lost in an ocean of ideas that threatened to capsize her mind, leaving her with little more than an upset grumbling as she walked out onto the deck in search of a fresh breath of air.

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Dinner that night was, as most of the crew could have expected, rather quiet, filled with little more than minor conversation, often murmured so as to not disturb the grey cloud of uncertainty that had been cast over the ship since the incident with the stowaway. Regardless of its necessity, it still left the crew rather uncomfortable, the emotionless mood of their Captain especially catching most of them off guard. It wasn't often at all that Jack Morrison acted with nothing of note from his emotions; that chilling sort of behavior was very rare, to the point where the newer crewmen had only witnessed it, perhaps, once since coming aboard.

An old seadog himself, even if Jesse had voted against Jack's actions, he featured nothing different from his everyday mood, eating as meticulously as he often did. Aside from a cursory glance toward the other crew to attempt to ascertain the cause of the silence, he simply went on as if nothing had happened. He was the only one whom Captain Morrison's coldness hadn't fazed; he'd seen it often enough from far more callous shipmates in his past that it nagged very little at his mind, if at all.

Hana's face was mildly spun in discomfort, though only because she'd been sent down to check on the stowaway before the meal. It was a deep offense to her; stowaways were akin to murderers, if not worse, more vile and calculating than such filth. She'd taken a seat far along the communal table where they often all ate, deciding to sit beside her only conspirator from earlier, Junkrat, even if their boatswain was more lost in his supper than any thoughts from earlier, his mouthfuls of food asnarl as he immediately dug in.

With Lucio having taken lookout duty in order to relieve Lena, the third mate perhaps wanting to have chosen not to do so, given the somber air, she'd acquiesced only on Lucio's insistence that he not have to endure it. While often showing the same excitement as Junkrat at dinner, Lena now merely played with her food, her appetite from earlier having been lost as quickly as her excitability. Her head low, Lena's eyes peered up toward her Captain, Jack choosing to eat politely as he always had, only taking the liberty of carefully avoiding his silverware tapping the edge of his plate, a further indictment on just how silent it was in the mess room.

Given Jesse's predisposition to be hardened to such things, it didn't take him long to speak up, however quietly, as he dropped his fork onto his plate, pushing himself up to his feet, "Well, that's it for me, I suppose. Lucio left explicit instructions to lay all our stuff in the new 'mess cask', so when you're all done-"

He cut off as he dropped his wooden bowl into the barrel, along with his fork, "Voila. Angela's already making jobs easier around here."

Rounding back toward the table, he groaned achingly as he fell back into his chair, leaning back against it as his arm hung lazily back over its side, "We stoppin' by Hawaii on the way, Cap'n?"

Jack nodded slowly, "It's on the chart, yes."

"Great," came the reply from Jesse, grinning as he leaned his chair back on its hind legs, "That'll make souvenir shopping easy. Every night before I shove off, we convene on their bed and get a list goin', a very broad one, of what all I need ta be lookin' for."

He turned up toward Angela with a knowing nod, "Singapore's got everything, and I mean everything. The amount of trade that goes on down there, it'll make ya head spin the first time ya find Italian noodles swimming in some curry or somethin'."

Junkrat's lips began to whet with drool.

"Anyway, Hawaii's pretty close; it's not a tradin' mecca or nothin', but you can usually find a lot of stuff," Jesse confirmed with another nod before beginning to pick at his teeth with his fingernail.

Captain Morrison shrugged with a dismissive air as he leaned forward for another bite, "That's why I try to pay you all before we get there."

"Like a dad sendin' his kids off with a handful a' nickles to a smoke shop," Jesse grinned, almost nostalgically, with a sigh, his head falling backward as he shut his eyes, resting against the back of his seat.

Captain Morrison finished his bite before taking a breath, placing two open hands onto the table as he warily smushed his lips together, "Okay, well- Thanks to Jesse, with the air somewhat open for discussion- I like to pride myself on being open with you all, as you know. If there's anything any of you have to say, I'm more than willing to hear it. That's concerns, grips, any-"

"Were you gonna do it..?"

Jack paused, lowering his head regretfully before turning to eye Lena Oxton, his third mate still buried in her bowl with her hair falling down across her face. He took a quick look around the table to find everybody's eyes on him, even Junkrat's, and he took a deep breath as his lips tugged to the side.

"Would it have made any different if it had been a man?" he asked, returning to Lena, speaking as carefully as he could.

Lena remained silent, though Jesse's voice broke the air once again, "Hell yeah, it would'a. A man's a man; he ain't got any attachments to this world outside 'a the wallet in his pocket. A woman, y'know, they could have children 'n stuff ta look out for. A man's a man, a woman's a woman and anythin' that comes after her- two different things. That's why I voted to keep 'er aboard. She might be scum for what she's doin', but I ain't about to ruin her kids if she does have, or ever will have, 'em."

His chair hit the floor as he crossed his arms, shrugging, "I doubt ya would'a asked, if it'd been a man stowin' away, about his name."

Jack watched his second mate with a dark stare before returning to Lena once again, her shoulders trembling as she quietly uttered in reply, "I sure would've."

A scoff came from Jesse as he shook his head in disbelief, though it was Angela who reminded him with a steady air, "I wasn't the only one introduced to this stuff today…"

Jesse froze for a moment before turning to stare at Lena from across the table, shrugging, "I guess you're right. I keep forgettin' Lena's only ever been on this ship."

The air was so silent that a gentle plop sounded, echoing throughout the small mess room as Lena quivered, unable to hold back her tears as her head shook, "My father… We hadn't a dime to our name; just my father, sister, 'n me. He went off one day, tryin' to get to the mainland for medicine for my sister, he never came back. I sat at the harbor for a week, waiting for him from sun-up to sun-down, every day, and he never showed up. A boat came in, bragging about a stowaway, and when I went to check it out…I found him."

Her voice shook, "They had the courtesy of proudly strapping his body up to one of the masts like a flag. Just hung there like an unfettered flag. They got their pay, his life for a couple a' coin, a subsidy to deter such things, and then they buried him in the harbor waters."

Lena's head arose, her face a reddened canvas of tears, "If you don't listen to somebody's story- Maybe our stowaway has a sick daughter at home, waiting for a death that her sister can't do anything for besides administering a pillow stained with tears."

Her head shook in negation of Jesse's view, "If you want to talk about lives having no meaning, then feel free ta toss me, too; I guarantee you, I haven't a family- my life has amounted to less than anybody you've ever thrown."

Jesse shrugged, "You're a respectable woman, Lena; you've worked your ass off to earn passage aboard this ship. More than anything, that makes you who you are out on the sea. The ocean is the cruelest mistress to grace this world; if you want to tango with her, it's a different dance than bein' back on land. That's just how it is."

Before Lena could recharge another breath, Captain Morrison raised a hand, "Look, regardless, what has happened has happened. One of the perks to taking votes- I share responsibility. To answer your question Lena, yes, I would have done it, but only because the crew, at the time, had decided upon it. Next time, taking you into account, if you want to share your own stores with stowaways, that's your business, but regardless of all else, stowing away is illegal, and I'm not going to trade the lives of my crew for the life of a stowaway, I don't much care the reason for their doing so. At the end of the day, it's wrong, and is deserving of the same fate it offers sailors."

He took a sharp breath before lowering his shoulders, the vicious air taking its toll as he concluded, "As it stands, I still don't want anybody conversing with her, that's final. Lena, your heart is in the right place, but we have an assignment, and we're sticking to it; we're not going to get involved in the life of a stowaway."

"Even if it's my-"

"That's final," Jack asserted, his voice growing as he did so, quieting Lena as she returned her attention to her bowl.

He reached for a napkin, wiping his lips as though cleansing himself of his sudden burst of authoritative boister, his nose releasing a hot breath as he turned to Hana, whose elbow was on the table, allowing her body to contort away from the others, "Officer Song, how's our route coming?"

Hana's body jumped at being called, and she rushed to present herself in some sense of respectability, clearing her throat before speaking, "It takes nineteen or twenty days to reach Hawaii. Given our ideal conditions continue, we have around a week and a half to go, rather ahead of schedule."

"Superb," Jack nodded, "Then we'll stay the course. I don't want our stowaway taking away from your jobs, alright? As soon as we arrive, she'll be handed to the proper authorities. Until then, so far as you're all concerned, we've nothing in the way of distraction."

He turned toward Angela, "Our newest crewman has exceeded expectation, and as Jesse pointed out, she's been bringing innovation to a few posts as well."

Reaching a hand out to pat her applaudingly upon her shoulder, Angela allowed a meager sort of smile to escape her, though it didn't last long as he continued, "Let's hope for a fine catch tomorrow, as well."


	18. Conflagration

Night fell rather quickly on the high seas, it seemed to Angela, though so far outside the reach of so many houses, lanterns, and street lights, the transition between night and day has lessened to quite the minor adjustment, for as soon as the sun disappeared, the crew was only met by a sparkling sky, the stars so magnified by their remote location atop the sea. While she worked, Angela would often steal glances up toward the sky, her home having fallen prey to the same light pollution that now allowed her so much awe at the sight of an endless assortment of stars surrounding her.

She even picked out her favorites, creating her own sorts of constellations, as she hadn't any prior knowledge to the official ones, though Junkrat had assisted her somewhat in naming the individual stars themselves, even if she learned quickly enough that he hadn't them named, but numbered, particular by the amount of times he'd used the brighter ones for calibrating the sights on his cannons. Lucio was, perhaps, the most knowledgeable on the topic, though even he knew a mere few of them: Cassiopeia, the Ursas, Dippers, and Orion being about all he knew off the top of his head.

Still, she wasn't afforded too much time for such ventures, as she was often scheduled for bed earlier than the others, taking up the morning watch alongside Hana, and while the stars flickered, she was beneath the fore of the ship, rustling in her bunk that was so much more uncomfortable from back home. She'd been told to work hard, if only because you couldn't fall asleep in the bunks unless you were dead tired enough not to notice.

On this night, of course, she hadn't even nearly reached that state, leaving her rustling in her bunk with her hair strewn across her pillow, sent flying every minute or so as she rolled back and forth, unable to find anything relating to comfort. On top of that, she had to contend with the snores of the rest of the crew, which echoed violently around the walls, the tiny porthole doing nothing to empty the sounds before they assaulted Angela's ears, leaving her without quiet nor comfort.

She sighed, yanking her pillow up over her face before her hands fall to her sides, staring into darkness as the feather-filled pillow fell down to her ears, only barely muting the noise as she sent her mind out to think, having had Lena's words on her mind since she'd heard them, having had no reason to expect such a spirited person to be a product of such a horrific past. Beyond that, she hadn't a clue that stowaways were as stigmatized as they were, and that their treatment wasn't exactly as concrete as she might have thought. Then again, as Jesse had mentioned, had it been a man, would she have indeed witnessed the death of somebody? Would her father have truly murdered another human being?

As distasteful as the thought had been, Angela still recognized the turbulent seafaring life was fraught with such terrors. It had to for it to work, she knew. Still, as her mind ran across the event that nearly ended in a lost life, she couldn't help but recall how quick her heart had raced, how breathless that she'd been left as that woman's body was dragged to the ship's edge.

What was her name, she attempted to remember. Fareeha? She had struggled so helplessly, cried out in utter fright, yet Angela could still feel that woman's arms around her, how strong they'd grasped ahold of her; had she truly wanted to, Angela might not have even been allowed escape. Why hadn't she fought back against her father?

The porthole in the wall allowed the faintest glow of starlight into the quarters, and with Angela's eyes having adjusted to the darkness, she pulled her pillow from her face, relinquishing any thought of sleep as she reached into her pocket, pulling out the necklace that woman had dropped onto her in exchange for her very life, Angela now knew. For all that woman had known, Angela had her very life in her hands.

She pulled the tiny vial that hung at the bottom of the dainty-looking chain of golden rings up to her face, examining it closely though finding nothing of interest. It was, surely, a vial, but it was empty, it's top still closed by an evil smaller cork of sorts. The thing was about as large as her pinky finger to its first knuckle she noted, even holding it against her finger in comparison; it certainly wasn't practical for anything Angela could have thought of. Why had the woman worn this at all? she wondered, her lips curling curiously as her hand fell back to her side, closing her eyes once more.

She'd said she was from Egypt, didn't she? Her skin attested as much, Angela figured, even recalling the golden skin that had covered her face. and she'd had some marking around her eye. Perhaps she was a palace guard, marked in service to her pharaoh? Angela rolled her eyes sardonically at how silly that all sounded, yet she couldn't deny how thrilling that might be. She seemed to be running away though… She'd been a guard, but a coup had occurred, and remaining loyal to her ruler, this woman had taught to her pharaoh's death, leaving her with little choice but to escape or die. Maybe she were in line to be a pharaoh herself, like Cleopatra, and the wrong people had decided to expel her by threat of violence?

May she was like Cleopatra, using her fanciful wiles to bring the most powerful men on the planet to their knees if only for a chance that they may catch a glimpse of her. For how strong she had felt this stowaway's grip, she certainly didn't appear all that masculine. She carried that strength like any woman without it. Perhaps this stowaway had been some Egyptian agent, that mark around her eye signaling her pledge onto death, using her bodily charms to follow men into bed, only to overpower them, forcing out their secrets, or even assassinating them?

Perhaps she had done the same thing to women?

A hot gasp escaped past Angela's lips before she realized what she'd been doing, her head rising up gingerly to find her hand tucked into the front of her breeches, her arm leading into a bulge that came to a point as her knuckles pressed out against the fabric at her crotch. Angela bit he lip fearfully as her eyes turned out from her bunk, which sat top-most along its accompanying bunk below, a frustrating, coiling mass of nerves welling up within the pit of her stomach as her finger tip rested in a benign touch above her lips.

She slid the vial out from her palm and onto her chest, leaving its chain rung along the crick between her thumb and index finger as she reached for her pillow, pulling it over her mouth as her fingers slid along the lips between her legs, a shiver crossing her spine as she did so, her teeth clenching suddenly at the fabric of her pillow, fighting the urge to relinquish even a whimper that might wake a single soul. Her breath grew shallow as her finger slid back and forth across her most sensitive skin, delicately trembling along the border between silence and pleasured moans.

Perhaps she had done the same thing to women. Maybe she'd only done such things to women, she thought with sultry delight. Her arm had been so powerful, yet so soft, as though every bit of her hair had been rubbed off, abbraised by the skin of so many other women. Maybe she had been some sort of interrogator for the pharaohess, taking suspicious women into her cell, tying them up, and done anything and everything to make them talk; exerted every means of entering them to extract every… little… ounce of-

A bursting snarl of a snore suddenly clutched the whole of Angela's attention as she bolted to her senses, quickly whipping her head to the side to find that nothing had changed, save for Lucio's body violently adjusting in his bunk, his massive snore apparently having roused something in his sleeping self. Angela sighed in relief, though she immediately caught herself having worked up a sweat from both her previous activity as well as her sudden fright. She groaned dissatisfactory as she pulled her hand from her breeches, wiping her fingers along her already sweated sheets before pulling herself up and turning from off her bunk, eyes narrowed as she eyed the doorway.

She hopped down to her feet, her toes curling inward in an attempt to quiet her steps as she lowered her shoulders as if wanting to not be seen despite everybody being asleep. She slid on her boots that sat alongside the others by the door before taking more liberal steps as she made her way up the stairway, hoping some fresh, cold air would quell the still-coiling nerves in her gut. She frowned at the situation she was in, having not given it a single thought before agreeing to this trip, and certainly having no means by which to ask any other soul on this vessel what she should do about such things.

Groaning as she stepped out onto the deck, greeted by the massive allotment of stars, Angela quickly wrapped her arms around herself, the cool night ocean breeze making sure to surround her, dampening her needs almost as quickly as they'd arisen, offering her something of a sigh of relief, if not one of sadness at not being able to take the moment for herself. Still, she began to carefully tarry along the deck, not at all sure who was currently taking lookout duty, though she hadn't seen anybody as she examined the length of the ship, rather confused by such a sight.

Suddenly, she recalled the rotation, which had been shaken up to account for Junkrat arising at some point to check on the stowaway, though she clearly remembered the man still sleeping, meaning Lena was most likely perched high up in her nest. Before being detected by the third mate, Angela crept back into the ship, a determined sort of look on her face, gradually coming to the idea of taking the initiative of checking the stowaway herself, even if a strain of guilt plunged into her stomach at the thought of disobeying her father. Perhaps she was dying of thirst by now; she'd be merely saving a life. Who could punish her for that?

Still, her body continued to crave release, and the very idea of being in the presence of that woman seemed a good way to sate such a desire, at least at this point in time. Angela quietly made her way deeper into the ship, winding along toward the back of the vessel, opposite the sleeping quarters, sneaking up to the doorway into the hold, catching her first glimpse of the stowaway since the scene of her father nearly tossing her.

Just beside the open crate from which she'd come from, the stowaway sat with her back against the closest vertical beam, her head held low, shielding her face with her jet black hair dipping low in front of her. Her right leg had been pulled up, giving her shape something at least resembling somebody not just left there, already dead, though her body moved little, if at all, as Angela quietly entered the hold, the darkness surrounding this woman suddenly causing a tremble to run down her legs as she approached her, slowly.

Without making any extraneous noises as she crept along, after taking a number of steps, the stowaway's head bolted upward, her face wearing a snarl as though expecting an attack, though it did more to force Angela into a recoil as she flinched backward, quickly barring her teeth angrily as her heart nearly shot out from her chest.

"What's your problem?!" she asked in offense, "I was just going to ask if you needed anything!"

The stowaway barked, "Yeah, my fuckin' necklace! Give it back, you skeevy little brat!"

Angela turned her body away with her hands at her chest, frowning defiantly down toward the stranger, "Excuse me, you gave it to me."

"It was a verbal agreement," she argued with a crooked face, "I give you that necklace and you don't get me fuckin' thrown off a boat in the middle of the ocean! You reneged, and if I weren't tied to this fuckin' beam, I'd already have your arm torn off trying to get it back! Now give it back, Rosewater, before I pry it outta you!"

Angela's head shot up indignantly, "Joke's on you; I don't even know what that means."

The stowaway snarled once again, "It means you're a petty sailor; you might as well be swinging the lead if you don't even understand how agreements work."

"Petty?" Angela retorted with incredulity, "This may be my first trip, but I've been all around this ship doing everything I can. At least I'm not a stowaway, you creep."

She was met with a fierce stare from the stowaway, whose eyes gleamed from underneath her wild hair, Angela catching just the slightest glance of the strange design that ran around her eye, feeling a shiver at being the recipient of such an incredibly deepening stare.

"My name is Fareeha," she spoke, coldly, "And if you call me that one more time, I'm gonna rip this beam right out of this ship and beat you, got it? I am not a stowaway. If not for your stupidity, nobody would even know I was here."

Angela lowered her head, glaring toward Fareeha with a sarcastically surprised look, pulling her hand away from here and dropping the necklace, allowing it to dangle from her fingers as Fareeha took in a sudden breath at the mere sight of it.

"Give it," she demanded, quietly.

Shrugging, Angela simply replied with a haughty air, "Apologize for calling me names, then."

Fareeha smirked, her eyes darkening as her head lowered ever so slightly, though her eyes never broke away from Angela's, "You think I'm the idiot? I've only had two people come down here- the pipsqueak and the guy with the bad hair. They were the only two to vote to ship me off, excluding your captain himself. He has them coming down here because they won't willingly get to know me; he trusts they won't be persuaded by me to do anything."

"So when I see _you_ down here, princess, it doesn't take much of any thought to know you're not supposed to be here," Fareeha reasoned with an even voice, managing a shrug, "Even _you_ might be able to figure that out if you try just a liiiitle bit."

Angela frowned, subtly biting her lip in frustration as Fareeha cocked her head to the side proudly, "If you don't give me that necklace, I'll make sure your captain knows you were picarooning around down here."

"Picarooning?" Angela asked suddenly, "You think I was picarooning? I most certainly was not!"

Fareeha's eyes rolled in exasperation as she groaned, "Look, I'm making this easy enough for your little brain to handle. Give me the neckless, or your ass is gonna get keelhauled, got it?"

While Angela knew very well that, were word to get out, she'd be facing some sort of punishment from her father, though she knew very well that Captain Morrison wouldn't tie anybody to the mast and toss them overboard to be roiled along the side of the ship. Still, she'd already figured out that these two were embroiled in a sort of bluff-calling match, even if this stowaway was very much unaware of who, or what, Angela was, which she knew gave her an edge.

She frowned, worriedly, her voice drawn aquiver as she spoke quietly, "W-What's that?"

Fareeha grinned, her point apparently having gotten through, "You don't know what keelhauling is? Oh, princess, you wouldn't last two minutes running on beneath this ship. You'd wish you were simply being rushed to Davy Jones instead of left there to return aboard."

She continued, smirking malevolently, "So why not quit being a brat and just give it here? save us both the trouble."

"Wow, that sounds terrible…" Angela mused, feigning terror as she gingerly took a step forward, "I certainly wouldn't want that to happen…"

She held out her hand gently, Fareeha immediately hopping up into a crouch with her hands still tied behind her back, pushing her way up to her feet as Angela eyed her with nervous eyes, just a few steps separating the two of them. Fareeha subconsciously nodded, her eyes fixed on the glittering band of tiny gold rings, before they immediately jumped out of her view, Angela yanking her hand away and behind her back, leaving her stowaway with a look of genuine horror as Angela made a rude gesture with her free hand as she hopped away.

"You know less about this ship than I do," Angela scoffed with a shrug, "Go ahead and tell 'em, I don't care. I'll probably get extended deckswabbing duty, so what. It's worth it just to see that pitiful look on your face like you had on when we were about to toss you, before I saved your ass!"

Indeed, Fareeha's face had transformed into a trembling mass of disappointment as she slowly lowered herself back toward the ground, falling the last little bit before lowering her head in realization that she had been made the fool, perhaps for the entire time, deciding to simply disengage from the situation rather than play along with this deckhand who obviously knew more than she'd let on. Instead of triumph, Angela's heart sank at the scene before her, a sigh leaving her lungs as she reached a finger up to her face, scratching her cheek nervously.

"Look, uh, I'm sorry," Angela groaned, trying to withhold her regret at being unable to be more horrible of a person at times, "I _originally_ came down here to see if you needed anything, not to argue."

Nary a sound left Fareeha for the longest time as her head hug low beneath her shoulders, the silence beginning to nag at Angela's nerves before the stowaway finally spoke up quietly, "…I thirst."

Angela frowned, turning to make her way toward the nearby barrel that had been filled with fresh water, "I can imagine so if you spurt venom at every single person who crosses your path merely for assistance. I'd hate to encounter you as a legitimate threat…"

Fareeha didn't reply, though Angela still made her way over toward their stowaway, crouching beside her before reaching out the cup of water, her skin tingling at the thought of offering a woman water in such a way, lifting the small mug up toward her face, terrified of the possibility of an untimely blush.

Suddenly, Fareeha's face shot upward, her vicious eyes staring Angela dead in in the face, her body spinning toward her captor as her wrists crossed one another, Angela having come close enough for Fareeha to tackle her somewhat, pinning her against the wooden frame below the two of them. Fareeha slid her knees into Angela's sides to keep her in place, her teeth glimmering as they sat barred, her arms held up over Angela's head as she snarled once again.

"Give. Me. The. Necklace."

Caught in a dangerous vacuum of fear and surprise, Angela's eyes flew wide at the sight of this stowaway keeping her pinned to the floor, a churning collection of nerves shooting through her as her body fought with itself whether she should flee or fight back. Unable to use her hands to search her new prisoner's clothing, Fareeha was only able to stare at her in an attempt at scaring her into relinquishing her token, though as Angela's face began to darken in resolve, she took a sudden, sharp breath as if preparing to scream out in a pleading echo to alert the crew.

Fareeha's own eyes drew open in shock, though Angela immediately let loose with a cry, "AAA-!"

As if working only on sheer instinct, Fareeha's head shot down, her hands unable to silence this brat, her mouth taking the task itself as her lips covered Angela's, sending the newest crewman aboard the Splitstream into a crimson-laced look of shock, eyes wide as Fareeha seemed to draw her very breath from her, even if the stowaway's face only grew angry as though insulted by such a task. Whatever fear Angela might have felt immediately melted away in the presence of such brazen imposition, her body suddenly shooting full of retaliation, taking full offense at the prospect of being taken advantage of.

She immediately drew her hands up, swiping as hard as she could against whatever part of Fareeha was exposed, though still fearful of any noise she might burst out with, she remained clasped to Angela's lips, her face wincing at the blows until Angela finally drew an instinctive nerve, her teeth clenching in an instant, catching just enough of Fareeha's bottom lip, sending the stowaway recoiling back in an arch as her body followed where her hands remained tied to, her voice bursting forth in a pained anger.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" she cried out.

Angela whipped back up to her feet, her face in such an intense frown that it appeared to grow long, her hands hurriedly brushing off her breeches from the dirt of the wooden floor, "I'll see that my vote gets overturned. Hana was right; you're an animal. Who knows what you'll do if you were to ever free yourself?!"

Before she could spin away and stomp off, she was taken aback by Fareeha's lips curling into a smirk, the slightest trickle of blood running along the puffed stretch of skin that had already begun to swell, " _I'm_ the animal? Princess, how does _this_ look? It sure looks like you were down here trying to get a taste of stowaway. I'd hate to think how your crew mates may see you after _that_."

Angela's brow shrunk in furious indignity as her hand clutched tightly, knowing she'd been outplayed, by her own action no less. Fareeha merely chuckled to herself in accomplishment, shifting to something of a comfortable position where she sat, rolling her head along her shoulders almost playfully, like a cat teasing a mouse, refusing to kill it and miss out on its plaything.

"You can take your leave," Fareeha muttered authoritatively, despite her imprisoned state, "I will be getting that necklace back though, you can count on that. If you all only knew where all I'd been, what I'm capable of, you'd all have chosen to throw me off this ship."

Her eyes suddenly darkened, "But then you'd all be the recipients of my haunts. my curses. and if you don't want to know what evils trail after me, you'll give me that necklace."

Fareeha's head leaned back against the beam that kept her wrists in place, sighing with an accomplished air, "I can wait. I've got nothing but time now, as long as I've got this wound. If you turn me over to the authorities before you return what's mine, though, I can assure you you'll be seeing me very soon after that occurs."

She repeated for emphasis as her voice lowered in time with her closing eyes, " _Very_ soon."

Angela felt her shoulders trembling as she stood there in listless reverie, unable to conjure up anything of a retort. She knew she'd been checkmated; her father could forgive her for checking on the stowaway, even if it would have displeased him tremendously, but for her mark to come across that same stowaway's lip… Her face curled angrily as she turned on her heel, stomping off as she left the stowaway with the only real retort that she had.

"See that you get a drink _now_ ," she challenged defiantly.

Fareeha merely shrugged behind her shut eyes, "Don't bother. I've had a taste of something much sweeter."

In a sudden halt, Angela's face blew a dangerous crimson as her eyes yanked wide, her head whipping around in a violent motion, staring deep enough into her stowaway's eyes that she could very well have burned holes into them. Fareeha only chuckled at such a sight, musing to herself as she happily rested her head back against the bean, rolling it from side to side.

"You're so easy to fuck with," she pointed with a peculiar sneakiness, "Must be an easy crew on here to deal with. That won't serve 'em well with the Shimada's rolling around these seas."

With that, Angela stormed off, not bothering to share another word as she disappeared beyond the threshold, regretting having ever decided to come down here. She returned to her bunk to stew until sleep finally overtook her an hour later, her mind too far gone to recall the necklace resting deep in her pocket, its golden strap quickly becoming the least of what bound the two of them together.


	19. Dragon's Breath

Genji stepped out from the front wheelhouse of the Hanamura, his feet crossing one another in a drunken sort of gait, his arms quickly throwing themselves in front of him as he fell forward, grasping the ship's edge as he braved himself. His body collapsed sideways, his back hitting the hull before he slid down into a seated position, giggling absently to himself at the still-whirling world around him. He reached into his pocket as he sighed gleefully, his legs lazily sprawled our before him as he took another swing of whiskey, nearly spitting it out in laughter as he noticed his brother's stern face approaching him.

He quickly reached his wrist up to his mouth to catch himself, though his body still quakes in amusement, his head shaking, "Uh oh! Brother's here!"

Hanzo sighed dismissively, crossing his arms as he stood above his brother, Genji still in a giggling fit as he explained, "I'm just doing my part, brother! Merriment is- It's an important- A very important part of maintaining your men's morale."

"You're drunk again, Genji," Hanzo conformed mutely to himself aloud, knowing his brother wouldn't remember anything in the way of disciplinary words by the morning, though he still continued nonetheless, "You know officers are not allowed to drink."

"Bah, I'm not even piloting this thing," Genji assured grumpily, though he smiled as he pointed back toward the stern, "Oji-san's got it- he's like my designa- designate- That thing."

Hanzo grumbled to himself as he reached down to pull his younger brother up to his feet, though while Genji followed, he did little in propping himself help, speaking up in a low tone, "Maybe not. That-… That implies I was given command in the first place."

"I wonder why that hasn't happened yet," Hanzo bit back sarcastically, helping his brother along, "Come on, let's get you to bed and you can sleep this off."

Genji snickered wearily, "Pfft. I've slept a lot of things off, brother; whiskey does not quite go silently into that good night! I remember father's sake stores, pilfering one for the amusement of myself and our dear cousin; the two of us were right as rain the next morning! if not for one blathering brother, anyway."

"You were also ten years younger," Hanzo reminded, "And I merely pointed out the labels you had so stupidly left in sight. Father was the one to deduce that you were the one who's have done such a thing so sloppily so as to leave bits stuck to the bottles."

"Eh, you have got to live mistakes to know not to make them," Genji replied jovially, his head swaying back and forth in a spirited fashion.

Hanzo shot back, "You needed to steal father's prized bottle of 1600's sake, drink it all up, fall ass-first through the partition of the garden hallway, and wake up in the koi pond to know such things were stupid?"

"Well when you put it that way, brother," Genji offered weakly, though he perked right back up, "Don't pretend your little…stunt back when we were kids wasn't within the same vein."

"I was offered a few glasses from our grandfather," Hanzo corrected, "When you're offered, you're excused for what may happen as a result. Even then, I only disturbed the workers by some rambling outbursts. The more expensive the sake, too, the more disrespectful it is to waste on drunken idiocy."

Genji dismissed him with a groan, throwing a flagrant hand out I front of them, "Please. I made good use of the stuff. I still remember, it wasn't even that good; father must've been telling tales."

Suddenly, the weight from around his back released as Hanzo let his brother fell down onto deck, his knees hitting the wooden planks with a loud thud before he curled up, hitting the deck with a lazy impact, rolling there as if he were unsure which way was up. Hanzo leaned down, eyeing him with a straight glance as he drew in a hot breath.

"Disrespect me all you like, Genji, I won't allow you to disparage our father."

"Bah," Genji grumbled I'm unapologetic reply, finally finding his way down as he weakly staggered himself onto all fours, "Maybe the man just had a bad taste for sake and- Oh… Speaking of bad taste-"

He struggled toward the edge of the ship as his ribs suddenly constructed, sending him into a vomitous cringe as Hanzo grabbed his collar, pulling him up and over to the ship's edge, allowing Genji to fall there as his arms wildly clutches at the wooden frame as he threw up into the ocean, his legs dangling weakly along the deck as he kept all of his weight atop his shoulders as he succumbed to the poison within himself. A wave of relief washed over him as his body completed its purging, his body slowly sliding back along toward the deck as Hanzo helped guide him into a seated position against the rim of the ship.

"You can't help but help," Genji admired weakly, still very much drunk as he laughed at his repetition.

Hanzo shrugged, "Its easy when you're threatening the gleam of my ship. If the sailors see you like this, they'll no doubt begin to question your authority."

"Pshaw, that's why I revel amongst them! Better to work for a friend than an enemy," Genji reasoned groggily.

"You've still much to learn, Genji," Hanzo sighed, leaning down to pick him back up to his feet, "One of these days, perhaps you'll-"

Genji's head rolled down toward his chest wearily, leaving Hanzo to yank at him to jolt him awake, "Curses, Genji, I'm trying to help you get your life back in order and you can't help but nod off at the slightest provocation in the face of such assistance!"

His younger brother reached a single finger up into the air as if to ask for his brother's silence, his mouth wearily opening and closing with eyes near-shut, a portrait of a perfectly drunk gentleman, "I- I- I do appreciate it, brother, but could you, perhaps, do it without- You sound so much like father when you scold me. It reminds me, so much, of how I loathe that m-"

A sharp strike reached across his face as Hanzo scornfully slapped him, as if trying to force him from his ill-will toward their father, even if he knew it to be futile, ultimately. Genji only began to chuckle as he fell back against the wall, a hiccup slipping out from him as his shoulders quakes humorously, leading to a striking frown from his brother.

"One more time, Genji, and I'll have to-"

"Why does father hate me so?" Genji suddenly asked, his question coming as a disarming glance off of Hanzo's psyche, the elder brother's brow furrowing in confusion as Genji's voice roiled further.

Hanzo didn't answers, merely returning to his feet and pulling his brother along, bringing his arm over his shoulders before the two walked along, Genji still weakened by inebriation. Hanzo couldn't fin much in the way of a reply, simply doing his best to avoid his brother's continued thought process.

"Let's just get you to bed, Genji. Sleep this off and-"

"He always loved you more."

Hanzo frowned, "Don't make me smack you again. You know father has always loved us equally; you never went without anything I had been esteemed. Granted, you used much of what you were given without much thought, but father loves us the same. Don't be a dolt."

He continued his struggling gait as Genji's legs weakened more and more with tire, though the younger of the two spoke up in reply, "You were always good enough for him, brother. I never was; you know that. I'd bring him home paychecks, play compositions in his honor, display artwork- it never did please him in the same way his eldest son's works pleased him."

"I brought him home a grandson even, that child I'd had with that maid woman from Edo? The most beautiful boy he was…" Genji reminisced longingly, much to his brother's chagrin.

Hanzo extolled lightly, "Had you gone about it properly, Genji. Father hadn't a choice; the Shimada name has been built upon such honor over the centuries, he wouldn't dare allow illegitimacy to take root. It boggles the mind to wonder how you have been given so much, yet tarry along with hardly a thought. Every bill father sends out to that woman to buy her silence toward linking that child to you is a waking reminder of his youngest's absolute inability to even-"

"I watched," Genji muttered, his speech slurred.

Hanzo turned to him, stopping in his tracks as he focused on keeping his brother aloft, "Watched what? Your future go by without a mere thought?"

Genji's head rolled listlessly, "He never did buy her silence."

"Please, father told me himself," Hanzo challenged, "I've seen the-"

Genji tanked himself away from his brother's grasp, drunkenly wobbling away and finding the nearby wall that made up the stern, smacking into it violently before leaning there, staring back toward his brother with bloodshot eyes, "Are you so stupid, brother, to think I wouldn't have torn myself from this family to be with my child?!"

Hanzo watched him critically, unsure of his brother's angle, even as Genji reached up his two clenched fists to his face cover his eyes, sliding down the wooden wall as his slurry voice wobbled out of him in the sadness of a drunk man, "Had father not bought their silence with a edge of a blade, I'd have left this family long ago."

"Lies," Hanzo accused, heating up himself, "Genji, if you don't-"

"I watched- I watched," Genji repeated, shaking his head, "That child couldn't even walk. Hadn't a struggle; yet father took his life as though it were the simplest thing in the world, as if his very son's legacy was only something to be extinguished so easily. He made me watch; watch my child, my blood, pour onto the concrete ground."

His head shook slowly, "Yours is the only legacy he cared to take any amount of pride in."

Hanzo's shoulders slumped regretfully as Genji quietly sobbed, the liquor having lubricated his emotions as much as it had done the same to his inhibitions. He sighed to himself, walking to his younger brother's side before turning around, sliding down to sit beside him with a long face, as though such personal moments were foreign to him. He fiddled with his fingers as Genji's body gently shook with tearful regret, speaking only in a quiet voice.

"I know you'll forget anything I say tonight by morning, which makes this difficult to say, yet also brings me some relief," he spoke up, biting his tongue for a moment as he went on, "Look, brother, you will never be able to know, or understand, the guilt that so drives me to aid you to the best of my ability, even unto my own detriment. You'll never know why I put up with your antics, or why I was so quick to offer your life a path to better days in the way of bringing you aboard here. "

"It's true that our lives took different paths, and that everything seems to come so naturally to me. I suppose you think I'm proud of such things, but I can assure you, brother, nothing aches my heart so as seeing you struggle where I persevered so easily," Hanzo explained, lowly, "It doesn't matter to me how low your life turns, you're my brother. If I were able, in a heartbeat, I would trade my entire enterprise for you to have a life so devoid of its tremors that threaten to sink you, constantly. You're my brother, Genji; and while I would like to think my instruction is wearing off on you, even if it truly is not, nothing will take away that fact."

Hanzo's eyes dipped sadly, though he was only met by a wayward snore breaking the air, his head turning slowly to find Genji m's head hanging low, his lungs billowing obnoxious snores through his nose. Hanzo sighed at the sight, possibly due to relief, as he leaned back into his own spot, shaking his head in his own regretful pose, frowning.

"And we'll have this talk, again and again, only when you're unable to hear. It's true, brother, how frightened I am that I am living father's life, and not my own, while you so freely enjoy your own," Hanzo admitted, only to himself at this point, "I haven't the courage even to speak these things to you within the waking world."

He smirked, an uncharacteristic chuckle escaping him mutely, "How selfish I am. Perhaps I enjoy your drunken escapades; it allows me the freedom to relieve my aching guilt if only for a moment without you ever knowing what I say. Knowing that, for all your faults, I admire you."

Hanzo turned toward his sleeping brother, a nostalgic image of the two of them sleeping soundly beneath the family's grove, too young for the cares of this world around them. Instead of composing himself and dragging his brother away to his bunk, Hanzo simply remained by his side, rolling his head back along the wood supporting his sitting posture, staring up toward the stars absently, his hand fiddling its way into his coat pocket and pulling out a lengthy pipe and a match.

He shot an elbow into Genji's arm, rousing his younger brother, who complained, "Heeey, I was having quite the dream."

"You don't dream until you've slept for some hours, Genji."

Genji shrugged, "I was dreaming of slumber itself, dear brother. Quite the whimsical world that is; for all the alcohol in the world, there is no better escape than that realm of sleep! Many a nights, ive been oblivious to the faults in my life, thanks only to-"

"What about some kizami?" Hanzo interrupted, allowing a wry grin to escape him.

Genji perked up, eyeing the long kiseru pipe in his brother's hand, a considering look rolling along his face as he tilted his head, "That might work."

Hanzo chuckled, pulling out a tiny box from his coat that stored what little hair-like strings of tobacco he would carry, pulling out a fine amount to stuff into the pipe, "Father still has no idea I carried along this habit you so ruefully bestowed upon me."

Smirking suddenly, Genji laughed himself, "Had you not stumbled upon our cousin and myself, you might have been spared our illicit activity."

"Well, I can't say it isn't terrible," Hanzo admitted, "It does calm the nerves after a long day. Perhaps not as effectively as your preferred ingredient to be smoked, but at least I haven't a need for a willing participant in the way of women."

Genji snorted out a laugh, joining his brother in a pseudo-joyous mood as Hanzo finished fixing the pipe, passing the unflamed kiseru to his younger brother, "You always had me stoke it first. You were afraid you'd do it wrong and burn down the house. I figure you've earned it by now to be the one to stoke its flame."

The younger of the two pushed his wrist away with a smile, "Come now, dear brother; who am I to ward off tradition?"

Hanzo shrugged, striking the match along the deck before shielding its flame from the wind, bringing the end of his pipe to his lips, gently blowing as the flame came alight, a fine plume of smoke emerging from the tobacco before he took in a breath to stoke the entire collection of tobacco hairs, relishing the sensation before ejecting two powerful strands of smoke through his nostrils, the way the two boys had watched their father perform for years.

"You do that so easily now," Genji cracked a smirk, "I remember the first time you tried it, you nearly puked."

Hanzo's relaxation overtook him, leaving him to laugh lightly, "Well, life offers many lessons. Some more unsavory than others. Here."

He passed the kiseru to his brother, who dutifully accepted the pipe, bringing it to his own lips and taking in a puff. Somewhere between his inebriation and inexperience with smoking much of anything, Genji's lungs blew afire, his body jerking forward as he coughed violently, sending Hanzo into a raucous laughter as he bent forward, grappling his arm across his stomach as the sudden movement aches at his midsection.

"Moderation, brother!" he cried in between fits of laughter, "I know you don't know the term, but pace yourself!"

As Genji spat out to relieve his throat, he couldn't help but laugh in time with his brother, sputtering our a few words in between such violent extremes, "C-Curses to- to you, brother! That sh- That shit's strong!"

Hanzo nodded proudly, "Perhaps if I hadn't been introduced at such a young age, I might not have advanced so far along. The fault does rest with you, brother."

His breaths began to calm as he returned to resting against the wall behind him, only allowing irryhthmic chuckles as Genji struggled to calm his own lungs, eventually having found a rest after passing the pipe back to Hanzo, who simply returned to puffing from the kiseru every few moments.

Genji sighed, rubbing his hands along his face before they fell to his side, his voice escaping in a croaking tone, "You know, brother, those times we did stuff like this, when you let your guard down- I never felt closer to you. I forgot about everything that separated us and was just able to remember when we were kids. Nothing separated us then."

"I know what you mean, dear brother," Hanzo replied, eyeing the heavens above, "Back before we had responsibilities. Well, one of us anyway."

His head fell toward Genji to reveal his smirk, allowing his younger brother to laugh with a shake of his head, "My responsibilities may be bound to you, but they are, nonetheless, responsibilities. I may not have the ability to lead a respectful life on my own, but I'd much rather be in your care than father's. or anybody else's, for that matter."

He reached a hand over to clutch Hanzo's shoulder, his elder brother's eyes casting down on him in a distant reverence, "Please continue caring for me, brother."

Hanzo smiles weakly, though he ultimately lifted a hand up toward his shoulder, resting it there atop his brother's before his fingers closed tightly upon him, his voice assuring him, "Whatever you say, brother."

Genji nodded, his head slowing as he did so, until it fell forward, his body lost to sleep once again, leaving Hanzo there alone once again. He carefully returned Genji's hand to his lap before returning to his kiseru, taking gentle puffs into his mouth and expelling then from his nostrils like a boorish dragon, watching its thick smoggy vapors trail up into the sky, leaving only the two brothers sitting there beside one another.

"One day, dear brother," Hanzo mouthed, quietly, "You'll be able to tame the dragon within you as I have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule #1: You can make bad guys look good, but you can't make good guys look bad ;D  
> \--------------------------------------------  
> As much as I've loved writing this, you can probably tell from my infrequent posting of it that it's beginning to wear on me- I wrote this chapter, alone, three times until it finally resembled something I could be proud of :p I'm in no way saying this will remain unfinished! In fact, I have no plans on postponing it, but after the next handful of chapters, I may decide to take short breaks in between chapters to focus on other stories:
> 
> I had somebody ask if I could continue my "Echoes/Flame" story from my Warcraft-verse, and on top of that, I've had an amazing Ocarina of Time story in my head the last few days that I would love to get down on 'paper' :D
> 
> So while I may start shifting my focus, I'm not at all 'quitting' this story or whatever ;D I just want to keep you guys knowing what's going on in my mind! I haven't stopped writing fan-fiction since I started back in late 2016, even when I decided to 'take breaks' that never happened, so I doubt this story will remain incomplete for too much longer xD


	20. Quick Draw

Jesse's eyes grew downcast as he stood above the mass of netting that sat balled up near his feet, his arms crossed while his thumb ran along one of his muscular grooves, staring with uncertainty as today's catch yielded much the same as the previous few. Captain Morrison had shown up on deck as well, hoping for a large haul, though, as today's catch only yielded a few enough flapping fish that one could count them upon their fingers, he frowned for a moment before eyeing his second-mate, catching the distant eyes upon him.

"I know what you're thinking, Jesse," Morrison asserted cooly.

His mate's shoulders fell, Jesse raising a single eyebrow as he retorted, "If you knew, you'd have never invited me aboard so long as I have this weight around my neck."

"Jesse, just cut it out, okay?" Morrison asked with a heated voice, "These…superstitions, that's all they are. You're not cursed, you're not- you're not dooming this ship. A string of bad luck is  _not_ preordained, it's life. We play with the cards were dealt, that's all; and if it means a mere few fish, so be it, no big deal."

Lucio took the opportune time to speak up, albeit gingerly, "A-Actually, sir, it's quite a big deal. Our stores, we  _were_ planning to supplement it with fish- we've nearly exhausted our proteins as it is."

Morrison frowned, turning toward his chef with a fiercely low whisper, "That's not the point I was wanting to make, Lucio…"

His chef jumped at his obliviousness, but it was all the same to Jesse as he crouched down to begin pulling the small take of fish that they'd gotten and tossing them into a nearby barrel, "Its all good, you two. I've made up my mind."

Jack and Lucio shared a glance at one another, with the chef scratching at his shoulder, nervous at his own presence alongside these two, "Uh, yeah; I'll go filet these or something."

"Thank you," Jack offered, waiting for Lucio to patter away before turning toward Jesse, who was dragging the net back over toward the starboard side of the ship for another bout of fishing, "You've made up your mind about what?"

"I'm cursed, Jack," Jesse answered with a shrug, "That god damned albatross has me. I'm nothing more than an impairment to you, and your crew. Because of me, you ain't got stores. People tend ta mutiny in the throes of hunger, you know. I'm better off not in your service."

He threw the massive ball of netting overboard, leaning over to watch it collapse into the ocean, "I'll get off at Hawaii and find passage back home. I refuse to be a hindrance to you all."

Thinking he'd said his peace, Jesse began to wander off down the ship, though Jack was quick to reach out, grabbing the man's arm and whipping him back around, "You're doing no such thing, McCree."

"I thought you'd been givin' me say over when I walk away," Jesse pithily replies.

Jack retorted, "I want you to have the chance to walk away because of a captaincy or because you're tired of all this, not because of some fanatic superstition."

The second mate chuckled, shaking his head as he sat against the railing of the ship, crossing his arms while his fingers scratched lazily at his skin, "The rumble in your gut knows better than you do, Captain. This is only the start, too. Who knows what might start happening if I stick around. 'least if I go home, off the seas, I won't be a bother to anybody but my lady."

Sighing, Jack ran a hand over his head, mulling over his most valuable sailor's essential resignation. His eyes peered alongside his wrist as it tarried along before his eyes, finally dropping to his side as he worked his way to Jesse's side, leaning against the ship's edge himself while stuffing his hands in his pockets, the two men simply allowing their eyes to wander along the deck, both eventually falling to Angela, who was dashing barefoot along the ship, following along behind Lena as she threw down rope for Angela to tie down as it wove between the mast. Her speed amidst her skillful knotting was astounding, even if the two men were becoming well accustomed to the sight.

"She's a fine sailor," Jack muttered lowly."

Jesse replied, "Seems so. She's got it somewhere in her, I'd fancy 'cause of her parentage. Her mother took to it as well like a labrador takes to its meals."

"And neither of 'em would've been half of what they are without you," Jack recalled, earning a sidelong glance from his second mate, Jesse's brow furrowing as he recognized his captain's doing.

"My wife wouldn't've been as good as she was if you hadn't brought her up as you had," Jack surmised nostalgically, his voice carrying a certain weightlessness to it, "She probably wouldn't've amounted to much Had you not-"

"I know what you're doing Jack," Jesse muttered, hiding a contemptful tone, "You won't convince me of anything by doing this. I've made up my mind."

Jack shrugged, "All I'm trying to convince you of is that I'd take you being the unluckiest mother fucker on the high seas than nearly anybody else. If a few light meals are what it's worth havin' you, hell, I'd sign before the ink dried in the deed, and I guarantee you everybody aboard this ship would agree to much the same, take a vote on that."

"You're more than a crewman, Jesse; you're family to most everybody on this ship. Hell, you're as much of a father to Lena 'n Lucio than they'll ever know," Jack went on easily, "And you've been as much of a brother to me than you'll ever know. You gave me a wife, and by extension, a daughter, and yet you still feel compelled to remain in my service. This albatross junk, it can't be all that's ailing you."

Jesse had taken to staring off into the sky as Jack spoke, eyes squinting beneath the sun. As much of him as Jack could see, he could tell by now that Jesse's blankness was simply him in thought, mulling over his Captain's words carefully.

"It's because you're all family that I can't bear to hinder you," Jesse explained further, "If you ask me to jump, and I can't… If I hesitate a second, —… You know I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. I spent too much of my life treading upon inaction."

Jack's tongue meandered along the back ends of his teeth, running from end to end like waves as he came to a devastating conclusion. He eyed Lena as she began sliding her way down the mast's edge, giving Angela a high five as the two of them completed their task, Jack's eyes narrowing at the sight.

"Then act," he muttered toward Jesse as he pushed himself up to his feet, walking a few paces as Jesse looked on, confused by his captain's words.

Morrison waved Lena over, causing Angela to follow suit attentively, the captain reaching up to fix his collar as he instructed, "Bring me the Boutet box."

Lena's eyes flew wide as she held back a gasp, "W-W-What?!"

Jesse jumped to his feet, stomping over toward the three as Jack ordered further, "You heard me. Get it."

In surprise, Angela felt a chill down her spine, recoiling as Jesse's hand shot past her, grappling her father's arm and yanking him around, shouting with a vitriolic snare, "What's your game, Jack?!"

Captain Morrison shrugged, "You look toward an occurrence for proof of your being cursed. Therefore, I'll offer you a counter, the inverse, to prove that nothing but chance rules this world, Jesse."

"You're mad," Jesse snarled angrily, "You presume to believe I would dare aim a firearm at my superio-"

"What?!" Angela cried out now.

Undeterred, Jack shrugged, "We're simply going to see just how unlucky you are. Six chambers, one click of the hammer aimed at my chest."

"Father!" Angela cried out, though Jesse remained her more argumentative ally in their challenging of the captain.

"Captain Morrison," Jesse muttered lowly, hardly ever addressing his captain in such a fashion, "I'd rather jump off this ship than ever fuck with a game of roulette with-"

A rapid clicking interrupted him as Jack pulled his arm out from beneath his coat, revealing a tiny flintlock pistol, aiming it from his hip toward Jesse as he tilted his head, "If you don't play, I haven't a choice. I can't have somebody aboard who'll hesitate should I ask them to do anything.

He lowered his brow, "If you're truly as worthless as you believe yourself to be with whatever crap you think has a hold on you, I don't see how you're worth having aboard now, much less until we get to our destination."

Jesse's face narrowed in fierce defiance as he watch his captain push his daughter away, taking a step toward the port side to clear the bullet from firing into the stern end, the both of them turning their heads as Lena gingerly exited the ship with a small case in her hands, her lips spun in uncertainty. She opened it with a single hand as her palm rested beneath the wide box, reaching it toward her captain first, though he waved her off.

"That's for him, not me," he clarified, a shocked expression reaching across his third-mate's face.

Lena eyed her superior with a concerned glance before doing as she was instructed, mumbling under her breath, "This is  _so_ not safe…"

She reached her arms out again, leaving Jesse unmoved as he stared at his captain as though hoping to call his bluff. However, a  _click_  sounded out as Morrison readied his pistol once again, reaching out his arm in Jesse's direction, goading him on. At this, Jesse grasped the gun in the case, using his thumb to eject the barrel and picking out a single bullet out from the small pile of them within the case. Lena's head peeked over the lid curiously, having never actually seen inside the thing, her eyes narrowing suspenseful as she stared at the small, messy collection of bullets that sat in a sort of recess within the bottom of the case.

Her head jumped back up as Jesse shoved the barrel back in place, taking his hand up to his shoulder and quickly jerking his arm down, sending the barrel spinning as it ran down his forearm, clattering noisily until it came to a stop. He aimed it toward his captain, a distant look on his face as he attempted to disassociate himself from the situation, almost unable to stare his captain in the eye.

"Let's see how unlucky you are," Jack shrugged, lowering his hand, "If it's as you say, I suppose you'll kill me. I suppose if you're lucky enough to send me away from this situation without a scratch, that says nothing of what you believe."

Jack grasped his shirt with his free hand, yanking it free from his topmost buttons as he exposed a portion of his chest, tilting his head slightly as he finished, "Now fire. That's an order from your captain."

Angela suddenly made a rush toward the two, but Lena was quick to stop her, yanking her backwards as their voices drowned out while Jesse's mind blanked, a shiver growing up his spine. His captain's eyes appeared so cold, his palm, surrounding the ornate revolver, was catching his sweat as his hand shook nervously. His mind reeled in its blankness, his eyes jumping from the gun opposite him and the man wielding it, Jack's face a calming expression that seemed to taunt him with how nervous Jesse, himself, felt.

His breaths shallowed, his arm shaking visibly as his finger slid up and down the trigger, fear welling up within him as his sweat nearly froze him against the ocean breeze, his mind-  _BANG_

Jesse threw the gun to the ground, sending it bouncing disjointedly as he reached his arms up over his head, covering his face as he spun away, stomping off along the ship. Jack remained, releasing his shirt to cover up his skin, still blemished only with scars of previous days, as he pulled his arm back to return his flintlock pistol to his coat, jolting suddenly as Angela jumped into him angrily, throwing her hand against him in a furious assault.

"You idiot!" she cried intensely, "How could you?! How could you do something so stupid?!"

He frowned as he attempted to quell her arms, finally managing to grapple one of her wrists and hold her away as he raised it into the air, "Angela!"

At his raised voice, Angela suddenly stopped, though she still wore a frown, responding only vocally, "How can you dare to tell  _me_ not to pull dangerous shit like that-"

"Language," Jack reminded, his face turning as he frowned severely.

She corrected, "How dare you presume to order me to remain straight and narrow while you go and do something so freakin' idiotic?!"

Jack watched her with his own intense eyes, remaining silent as Lena collected the gun with persnickety fingers, not wanting any of the gunpowder's dust to catch her skin, returning it to the box before approaching her captain, who released his daughter to appraise the firearm. He took a bullet out, running it along two fingers as he gave his daughter a sidelong stare.

"I did it because curses don't exist," Jack explained, reaching his hand out for Angela to examine, "Liars and charlatans do."

Angela's brow shrunk in curiosity as she leaned in closer to examine the bullet while Lena muttered, "Blanks. I noticed when I gave him the gun."

"Every last one of 'em," Jack confirmed, "I don't give two shits whether or not-"

"Language," Angela corrected, peering up toward her father with a fierce glance.

Captain Morrison bit his tongue, more due to himself being checked by his daughter, though given the current topic toward hypocrisy, he figured it better to continue, "I don't care what Jesse believes. There's no such thing as curses. If he believes he  _isn't_ cursed, I prefer that to him believing he is, regardless of what he  _knows_."

He grabbed the case, shutting and locking it as he gave his daughter a critical look, "And nobody is to hear about this. Understand?"

Before Angela could reply, he had turned to Lena as well, his third-mate reaching for Angela's shoulder and pulling the two together with a haughty air, "On our lives, Captain. Nobody will know."

"Good," Jack nodded, turning back to return to the ship with the thin box tucked between his arm and torso.

Angela watched him listlessly, her heart sinking, resembling the actions her father had taken before. For all the whimsy, she knew the sea was no land governed by laws, it was the absence of land, of laws; things out here were far more cutthroat than she'd ever cared to realize. Even with Lena patting her shoulder and offering her words of comfort, Angela couldn't shake the feelings swelling up in her heart, praying that she would not regret this venture.


	21. Aggressive Negotiations

Genji stepped deliberately down the tight staircase that led into the hull of the Hanamura, reaching up to cover his ears as the piercing screams of steam engines rang in circles down in the cramped space beneath the ship. He cursed under his breath as the hot, humid air immediately assaulted his pores, sending him breaking into a sweat not five steps into the winding room. It coiled throughout the interior of the ship, the steam powering much of the ship above, venting upward through the ship to boil water, power the ship's propulsion, and a myriad of other things, even if such technology was still incredibly difficult to harness.

Still, it made ships much quicker, as well as not having to rely on the zephyrus winds to take them where trade was needed, the steam engines perhaps being the single largest reason for the Shimada Company's climactic reach for Pacific dominance. Still, as the technology was not only complicated to begin with, it also required skilled hands to maintain, a single hole in a pipe likely to ruin the apparatus as a whole. Luckily for the Shimadas, they had an expert in such things.

"Hey! Steam worker!" Genji shouted from the stairwell, not privy to entering the steaming hall if he didn't need to, though their engineer's silence implied otherwise as he cursed, "Fuck. Where is that girl…"

He stomped down the remaining steps, shaking his head displeasingly before stepping through the hallway, already feeling light-headed from the immense heat. Carefully maneuvering along past the floor, littered with piping and various scraps of metal made to mend any deficiencies, Genji crouched low beneath pipes hanging from the ceiling as well, grunting angrily, worming his way deeper into the vessel until he finally came across a sign of life.

"OUCH!" came a pitiable cry, "Bèn dàn! Stupid- * _CLANG CLANG*_!"

Genji turned the slight corner to find his engineer with a wrench in her hand, beating angrily at a slovenly-placed pipe, trying to work it back into place, his voice piping up loud, "Steam girl!"

The wrench went flying as Mei spun toward the source of her name being called, her arm having coiled back for another blow, though it quickly returned to her side as she jumped to attention, "Y-Y-Y-Yes- Yes s-sir!"

Groaning, Genji cursed once again as he examined his surroundings, bracing himself on an overhead pipe, "How the fuck do you live down here like this?!"

"W-W-Well, I remember that s-steam powers, uh, the future!" Mei stammered, her face turning worriedly as she continued to spout out an answer she hoped would satisfy the first-mate, "When, uh- When you use coal, coal power, you know, that kills the people working with it! Steam is, uh, well, it's clean for everybody, so- I mean, I want to make sure it becomes mainstream, right?"

Genji eyed her, "I don't know;  _is_  that right?"

"Y-Y-Yes! Of course!" Mei replied, scratching her hands nervously, "S-S-Sorry, that was- Sorry! I'm an idiot sometimes!"

Genji groaned at her self-deprecation, though failed to address it as he spoke back up, "My brother, the Commodore, was wanting to know if we could speed up this excursion. He understands your-"

The wrench spontaneously slipped from Mei's hand as she let loose with a loud gasp, falling forward to attempt to catch it though it hit the grated floor with a massive  _CLANG_ as she fell on all fours, rushing to scoop it up as she threw herself back to her feet, nervously pushing her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose.

"S-S-Sorry!" she shouted, pulling the sleeve of her thin Breton shirt back atop her shoulder.

Genji sighed, running a wrist across his forehead to wipe away his sweat, "Look, we need to speed this up. Any way to power these engines further?"

"Uh… Uh…" Mei stammered, "I mean- Yes, we could, but-"

"Excellent," Genji nodded, turning to leave in a hasty manner, "My brother, the Commodore, will be-"

"Wait!" Mei cried out, nearly tripping over her own feet, " I-It's possible, but it's dangerous! Are you sure you-?"

Genji lowered his shoulders as he came to a stop, turning back around, "How fast can you get this thing without there being an accident?"

"W-Well- Well, uh," she continued in a fluster, "Considering I'm only one person, and I c-can't be everywhere- you know- The biggest issue is steam building up on a track. Normally, I'm monitoring everything- if there's a spot heading to blow, I can relieve it. But with so many tracks, and only one person, I mean- Basically, you're increasing the risk for such little gain."

Genji groaned, "Well, we'll send men down here to help you monitor-"

"No!" Mei cried out pleadingly before recoiling in a fright, "I-I-I mean, uh… It's complicated work and all…"

With a frustrated sigh, Genji wiped his scalding face with his sleeve, not wanting to tarry along down here any longer, resolving the situation succinctly, "Look, were on a deadline. Increase the engines to a point where you're comfortable; we're trying to increase productivity, the more we ship quicker, that's more in our pockets."

"A-At the risk of safety?!" Mei wondered with a start.

Genji eyed her, "It's not unsafe if it's the highest speed you're comfortable with. Honestly, we trekked across the whole of China to get the best steam worker; if you can't deliver, we'll send you back and you can keep blowing off people fingers with those stupid steaming fireworks of yours, got it?"

He turned on his heel with a curse, stomping off, the oppressive heat taking its toll as he wandered off through the coils of pipes in his way like an iron jungle, leaving Mei to frown sadly as she lowered her head, scratching her arm as she cast a pensive look toward the floor, reaching out to adjust a nearby valve with a despondent sigh.

Genji couldn't escape the streaming hallway fast enough, clutching the railing of the stairs with a slip of his hand from the sweat, barreling up onto the deck with a hasty gasp, the cool air assaulting his skin with a freezing blow as his skin trembled. He let out sputtering breaths of curse-fueled words as he stomped stern side, entering into the small room that held the captain's wheel, shaking his head as he turned toward Hanzo.

"I don't know why we went and got her; she can't even assure us swift passage! Why are we paying her?"

Hanzo remained stoic as his hands gently grasped two handles along the giant steering wheel, "Because I'm standing a few feet above hundreds of pounds of water pressure. and I don't intend on having my feet blown off. Did she give us any extra push?"

Scoffing, Genji replied, "She began to preach on her work, but I don't give two shits. Said she'd get as fast as she could without there being issues."

"Good. We're lagging behind; we need to get west of Fiji before the end of the month if we're going to maintain punctuality," Hanzo explained smoothly.

Genji agreed as he made his way over toward a nearby counter, fiddling with a compass rose as his brother returned to speaking, "Check the glass, will you?"

"Pfft, why?" Genji questioned childishly, "There isn't anything but ocean so far as the eye can see."

His brother raised an eyebrow, "Then why do my eyes fixate on an object to the port side?"

Genji's head raised apprehensively, making his way toward a wonder peeking out from the wheelhouse with a speedy gait as he grasped a telescope, peering out into the distance to spot a ship on the horizon, his lips curling at the sight of their colors.

"Brother, swing the ship, oh, twenty five degrees to port."

Unamused, Hanzo shot him a pithy glare, "I just mentioned, brother, that we're on a tight schedule that we are not to deviate from."

"Not even for Jack Morrison?"

Hanzo was visibly taken aback, his hand squeezing the wooden handle as he fought over his words, settling on "We're not to deviate, brother."

"What is a handful of clients, brother," Genji goaded, spinning toward his brother and gesticulating gallantly, "compared to owning the whole of the Pacific trade? That man is the last major foothold against you; I say we pay him a visit on the high seas. Show him what not to mess with."

His elder brother frowned, "Genji, what of it? Have you not had your fill by now? You were humiliated by the newest crewman aboard that ship. Either you're prepared to have the same thing happen a second time or you're only thinking of revenge, and not our consumers. In any case, I'm in no mind to go off of yours."

"I  _am_ thinking of our business, brother!" Genji continued with a wonderous voice, approaching his brother with an excitable show of his hands, "With no Jack Morrison on these seas, your business can only grow- nobody else but that man is stupid enough to challenge your dominance!"

"Perhaps it isn't stupidity, but bravery," Hanzo critiqued, "That fine line works both ways, Genji. I may despise that man, but I respect him; I let you go off and get onto his case simply because I don't have to live with the consequences- namely, your humiliation at the hand of a stumpet at our last shore."

Genji bent low, nearly on bended knee, "But that's the beauty of it, brother! I don't mind being the rabble-rouser! We're partners, right? I do the dirty work and you remain in the background, collecting the profits! You haven't even an ounce of guilt for such things!"

"Brother," Genji went on, lowly, "You've given me more of a life than father ever did. If I must degrade my life for the good of your name, your company, I will gladly do so."

Once again, his sense of honor being stroked, Hanzo was taken aback, merely peering out toward the ocean ahead with a stoic expression, eyes narrowed as Genji rose to his feet, "Think of it this way. You let me do you this service; you gain all the work left in the void of the newest ship to be sent into the deeps. Ebisu, our god of the greatest fortunes will shine upon  _you_ as I bear the brunt, which you know I'm fully capable of, should it be in service to my master, Shimada-san."

Hanzo rolled his eyes, turning his head toward Genji with a pithy stare as his brother shrugged, "Besides, dear brother, I heard the Southeast Asian islands are well known for taking in wayward wenches from around the world- some say they've quite the taste for the most exotic of women. Think of the opportunity cost; we miss the deadline by a week or two, lose our bonus, but make it up fifteen-fold with the women aboard that ship! It'll teach that tiny one a lesson, at that- the inbreed."

His fingers curled along the spoke of the wheel's handles, Hanzo's face contorting as his lips curled into a regretful frown.

* * *

Hana stomped down the stairs that led down to the hold, her clenched fists shoved jeep into her officer's coat pockets as she bit her tongue lightly, angrily accepting her captain's task of checking in on the stowaway, wearing her coat as if to remind herself of her position, not wanting to give such a thing up simply for being belligerent toward a filthy stowaway. Her cheek was puffed out, concealing a jawbreaker that she had hoped would help her handle the ordeal. The task was simple enough, though it was the principle behind it that bothered her, living her life reviled by so many around her. Being so distant from most other people in this day and age, her countrymen had developed a reputation of secrecy from around the world, leading to accusations similar to the ones that often would seethe from Genji Shimada's mouth whenever she had the ill-fortune of crossing him harborside.

One of the largest reasons she had even bothered stretching her wings was to curtail those very views- her people were not shrouded to protect themselves from the outside world, judging them on various sickly activities. In fact, there was ingenuity in Korea, Hana was well aware, one of her first projects being to reconstruct the legendary hwacha, a rapid-firing artillery weapon that had protected them from the Japanese invasion during the Imjin War. When she designed her first geobukseon at the age of eight, her parents knew she was tapped for ingenuity, and Hana's love for the sea was won.

But now, catering to a bilge rat not worth the lumber she was sitting on, Hana felt so incredibly demeaned. She understood that this resentment was the very reason why she was chosen for such a job, her captain not wanting anybody associating at all with the stowaway, but it still challenged her in a way that she'd never quite been challenged. Even now, heading deeper into the Splitstream, fists tight and pocketed, teeth clenched, she felt nearly as dirty as all the words that she'd collected in the way of insults.

In this frustrated reverie, one could imagine her shock as she came across Angela Morrison of all people, the captain's daughter leaning against the wall of the tight stairway, wrists cuffing one another behind her back as she wagged her foot lazily as though waiting impatiently, her blonde hair swaying only gently as her head turned up to find Hana standing there, Angela's body jutting up to her feet as she spun complete, leaving her superior with a curious glance.

"Officer Song."

"…Angela."

Hana's brow furrowed, "You're not supposed to be down here…"

Angela shrugged, "We're not supposed to normally be harboring stowaways, yet here we are."

The officer bit back the reminder that Angela's swing-vote was the very reason they were harboring such a person, though figured, wisely, not to get on her bad side. Angela was still her captain's father, though it didn't take the sting off completely. Hana watched her warily, immediately catching that Angela was up to something, though she wasn't sure what, instinctively falling back into her introverted shell, waiting until Angela showed her cards first.

Sure enough, experience trumped youth as Angela crinkled her lips innocently, her eyes wandering as she spoke up lightly, "So~… What're you up to?"

"You know damn well what I'm up to," Hana fired back with reserved anger, "I don't know why you're down here, or what you're up to, but I'm not playing any games."

She shot a hand up to grasp the sleeve of her coat, yanking at it, "See these colors? I'm not about to lose these just because I helped someone get on their father's bad-side. Your father is my captain, I don't know if you've forgotten."

"Pfft, what?!" Angela shrugged with outstretched arms, hitting her hand on the wall before recoiling to massage it with her opposing fingers, cringing, "Who's up to something? I just figured we'd have a chat is all."

"Uh huh," Hana nodded sarcastically, not wanting to stick around longer than she had to, "Just let me through, I have to check on the-"

As she took a quick step between Angela and the wall, the captain's daughter suddenly threw her hand out in front of her officer, forcing Hana to jump in surprise before a blush overtook her from embarrassment. Her head turned gradually toward Angela, her face wearing a pithy glare that shot out daggers.

"…girl…" was all she managed to mutter angrily, embarrassed still that she'd been seen so surprised.

Finding the kettle to be much hotter than she'd anticipated, Angela cut to the chase, waving her hands back and forth out in front of her, "L-Look, it was just a proposition, alright? Nothing bad or anything."

A skeptical squint of her eyes followed Hana's movement backward, a mix of confusion and intrigue suddenly confusing her, "Proposition, you say..?"

"Yeah…" Angela nodded smoothly, "You  _did_ enjoy that saltwater taffy, didn't you..?"

Hana found her mouth watering for a moment before she caught her wits, recoiling in a shock, "W-Wait! What's your game, Morrison? I don't know where you got that taffy, but that stuff we got in San Francisco was second-rate, and Hawaii's got nothing. That's some rare candy if I ever saw it, the kind that puts a pep in your step; why would you give it up?"

The captain's daughter shrugged, "No reason. I just wanna be the one to check up on the stowa-"

"What?! Why?!" Hana shouted.

Angela answered plainly, "Do I need a reason?"

"Your father's gonna kill you!" Hana retorted in a frenzy, "And  _then_ he's gonna kill the one who knew it was going on! Which is me!"

Groaning, Angela rolled her eyes, "Look, I don't give two shits right now what my father says. He taught me, growing up, never to kill, yet I watched him nearly do  _just that_ right before me eyes. He always told me to quit doing stupid shit, yet he's up on deck taking bullets to his chest! If he can be stupid and reckless out here on the sea, I don't see why I can't do something as harmless as this."

"Besides," she continued, "I know you hate doing it. I take your place, you don't have to see the stowaway; you simply go along with your day, nothing more to worry you than how much of my entire stock of taffy is left for you. If we keep our mouths shut, how can you lose?"

Slowly, almost like a cat about to pounce, Hana's arms crept up to fold themselves along her chest as she stared critically at Angela, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side. Ever fiber of the back of her mind told her to be the responsible officer she'd been promoted to so long ago, a position that she hadn't thought possible when she first left home. To throw that all away, over a mere stowaway nonetheless, seemed like the most insane thing Hana Song could possi-

"Show me the taffy…"

Angela grinned, pulling the small pouch of taffy from her pocket, handing it over toward her superior officer, whose nose flickered in the stale air of the Splitstream's hull, catching the faintest whiff of the candy.

"I'll give you one on the house, just for being a good sport up until this point," Angela smiled, hiding a grin like a spider weaving its web.

Hana knew she was being manipulated. This single bite of taffy was simply to gain her undying affection for the rest of the stash.

Yet she couldn't resist.

"Oh, alright!" Hana muttered, disappointed in herself, throwing her arm out to snatch away the pouch and pulling it securely into her chest as she lowered her head, ever-protective of the treats inside, her eyes upturned as she resembled something of a trollish gremlin with its prize.

Angela clasped her hands together with a wide smile, "Excellent! Enjoy it, Officer Song!"

Hana hunched over, almost evilly, as she crept back up the stairwell to return to the sunlight that never made it this far down the ship, leaving Angela with a mischievous grin as she spun around as well, her body teetering mightily as she rushed down the stairs, prepared to face her nemesis once again. The stowaway had made a fool of her last time, but Angela wasn't about to lose again.


	22. A Stowaway and a Princess

Fareeha sat with her back held against the beam behind her, her wrists bound atop a cross beam above, leaving her arms hanging lazily on either side of her head. Her legs lay straight in front of her, both her feet flopping back and forth alternately as she did her best to keep herself entertained, though it was a difficult endeavor to embark on. She spent mos of the time thinking, trying to escape her imprisonments vicariously, though as far as some of the places she'd been to, imprisonment aboard this particular vessel wasn't so bad.

She knew well enough, for female stowaways, their payment for being found out was far more dreadful than death, though given her interaction with the two sailors designated to keep tabs on her, this crew didn't seem an inherently evil sort. besides nearly tossing her off the ship, anyway. Fareeha knew and understood how bad stowaways were, and while she was miffed at being the recipient of a captain's resentment for her actions in getting aboard, she understood that she was, indeed, riding the line on her case. She was just relieved to be allowed to live and kept alone.

She'd handle the authorities when the time came.

And yet, despite her tertiary presence aboard this ship, she still managed to get herself entangled in unfinished business, a fact that troubled her greatly. Fareeha's luck hadn't been good for the last few months, and even here, the odds seemed against her. She understood why, yet knowing that didn't comfort her much. and even then, it was just her luck that this unresolved issue was in the hands, literally, of the ship brat, a little blonde thing, too inexperienced to understand the small value in ideals.

It always caused a seething grit of Fareeha's teeth whenever she thought about it, or specifically, the blonde girl that had taken her necklace under false pretenses. To be sure, Fareeha  _had_ given it up in the heat of the moment, thinking of little more than life or death, but given such a betrayal at the hands of that woman, Fareeha also had little more than contempt for her, even if her bratty nature was rather admirable, at least if it were seen as reckless determination. She didn't seem to give much of anything in the way of caring what others thought about her, a quality that Fareeha had captured within her own self.

She also had snow white skin of the niveous sort that burned a lovely crimson in anger or embarrassment. It was rather fetching beneath such golden hair, Fareeha opined to herself, albeit reluctantly.

Fareeha's lips meandered longingly as her stomach began to tumble, wondering where the crewmen has gone, already having figured out the general schedule from the tiny flashes of sunlight that made its way down from the deck two floors above. It was close to noon, she could tell, when one of the two would usually show up. Against her better judgement, she allowed a glance toward her open crate, her eyes wandering along the collection of packaged food she'd brought. Her stomach immediately tumbled louder as Fareeha's cheeks rose pitifully, regrettably deciding on her next meal, despite not knowing when it was to come next.

"Fuuuuck," she quietly whispered to herself in pitiable anguish, "Some boiled water and I could get some of that quinoa cooked up, sautéed with some of those peppers and onions if they're still good to eat… Some of that seasoned and dehydrated beef on top… Mmm."

Her eyes followed along the length of the massive box, turning from one delectable treat to another, swiftly going from one item to another as though her eyes were a patron at one of those parlors where food was wheeled out along a track right in front of you, ready to sink her teeth into everything her eyes came upon.

Suddenly, her ears perked up at the sound of movement at the doorway, her eyes immediately jumping to find that blonde-haired woman standing there casually, stopping within the threshold with a fiendish look on her face with her arms crossed. She leaned against the door's frame, silently, as though waiting for Fareeha to speak first.

Fareeha rolled her eyes, "Oh please, you're trying to play  _my_ game? I didn't get this far in life by being outplayed, Princess, you might as well just say what you're up to by being down here again. Looking for another kiss or something?"

As she expected, her last words there forced Angela to a start as she pushed herself to her feet, "Hey, don't even start with me! I traded for Hana's place; if you don't behave, you aren't seeing anybody else until after dark. How about that?!"

Fareeha shrugged, "I think it looks like I could go longer with without food or drink than you can go without seeing me."

At that, Angela flinched, though she caught herself before she could fall into Fareeha's trap, checking her anger and breathing deeply with eyes closed, taking a quick moment to compose herself before she went on, calmly, "Look, Faheera, I just-"

" _Fareeha_ ," the stowaway clarified intently as her eyes fell into a droll stare.

Angela groaned, "Okay,  _Fareeha_ , I'm just checking in on you, alright? Nothing to get all pissy about."

Fareeha's face turn from one of bemusement to confusion, her brow furrowing intently as she tried to pick up on what this woman must have been getting at.

"Need anything?" Angela asked with arms outstretched in a dramatic shrug, "I don't know what usually do for you when you need it."

"For starters," Fareeha began lowly, "I thirst."

Angela nodded, "Alright. I'll get you some water."

She turned before walking deeper into the hold, finding one of the barrels that was designated as being for fresh water and dipping a nearby cup in to complete the task, the silence causing her to jump in surprise as Fareeha spoke up frigidly, "I brought my own, but thanks for contributing to your crew's certain doom."

Angela turned her head to meet Fareeha's eyes, slowly turning the cup over so that the water trickled back out into the barrel, forcing Fareeha to put on a sardonic face at the scene playing out before her. The water gurgled noisily as the cup finished emptying itself before Angela began toward the crate at Fareeha's side, tossing the empty cup toward the prisoner who, being unable to handle the wooden accouterment, flinched as it lightly slammed into her chest, ricocheting and falling onto the ground, twirling in a circle near her feet.

"Catch," Angela muttered in annoyance, earning a rueful glance from Fareeha as she bent low to pick the cup back up before crouching down outside the crate as she explored, "Okay, water…water…water…"

"It's in the small barrel labeled 'water'," Fareeha spoke beneath her breath, causing Angela to groan as she brought an open hand to her face.

She whipped her head around angrily, "Look, do you want a drink or not?! Another smartass comment and I'm out of here, alright? I'm trying to help out."

"Pfft," Fareeha scoffed, "'Help out', huh? Why? Weren't you one of the ones whose first instinct was to toss me overboard?"

Angela frowned, "Okay, how about you quit speaking altogether and my last offer still stands?! Honestly, you're just so- You haven't even a clue how lucky you are to be on this ship versus any other; they would've sent your ass right off into the sea. At least we're keeping you alive until we hand you right over to the authorities! at the cost of my sanity, at that! It's like you-"

She'd continued to rummage through the pile of provisions that had slid out from the side-turned crate, left by Junkrat and Hana's now-repeated instances of pulling out and preparing food for the stowaway, and as she moved some containers and bags aside, Angela grasped a box that intrigued her, pulling it up to her face for a closer inspection.

"Blini..? Is this really blini?" she asked, reading the engraved text on the side of the wooden case in her hand.

At Fareeha's silence, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of her prisoner with unamused expression, her lips turned inward to signal her inability to speak, causing Angela to release a heavy, exasperated sigh, "You can talk, okay?!"

"You have quite the impetuous mind, Princess," Fareeha mused discomfortingly as she rolled her eyes.

"I know what that one means," Angela frowned, reaching out an arm to present the case to Fareeha, "Is this really blini?"

Fareeha frowned, "What, you're gonna steal that too?"

"I've stolen nothing," Angela reiterated plainly, "You gave me something, if that's what you mean."

A snortish reply came as Fareeha twisted her lips with an insistent tone, "Princess, I'll give you-"

"It's Angela," came an obtrusive reply, Angela frowning heatedly, "Cut out the 'princess' shit, alright? Don't make me show you just how un-princesslike I really am."

"Oh ho ho!" Fareeha goaded with a smirk, "What'cha gonna do? Let down your fair hair just a little bit less?"

Angela gave her a scorching stare before slowly rising to her feet, pulling the case of blini close to her chest to brace it, bringing over her other hand to yank open the top to reveal a box-full of pouches containing the tiny Russian pancakes, sitting so daintily in a row. She reached in and pulled one out at the tips of her fingers, staring straight at Fareeha as she took a bite, shrugging as she did so.

"Stealing food from a stowaway. Not exactly the sort of thing a prin-," she paused, suddenly, noticing a mischievous grin stretching across Fareeha's face as her own mouth began to radiate with a stabbing pain at the presence of something indelibly spicy.

Her mouth shot open, breathing increased as she desperately attempted to bring in cooler air onto her tongue as her head whipped from side to side, seeking out the source of anything that might quell the sweltering pain along the whole of her tongue and across her mouth, finding the open top of the barrel of water she'd previously been at, making a mad dash toward it and dunking her head into the exposed water, sending a splash of water into the air as she held her mouth open, the still water inside doing its best to mild the pain.

Fareeha snorted amusedly before openly laughing, her arms jerking back and forth as they hung there with her while body convulsing as she sat there. Angela's shoulders began to flex as she pulled her head out from the water, her blonde hair having already darkened into a darker shade as it clung to her face, a slow hand reaching up to slide along her forehead to clear it away as her shallow breaths progressed.

"Once again, your inexperience is well founded," Fareeha snickered, "That's spicy blini; obviously you can't handle such things."

Angela's body slowly turned to meet the woman, her brow crinkled angrily as her hair continued to cling to her skin, Fareeha shrugging before continuing along, "I told you to give me back that necklace. So long as you have it, you'll having nothing but bad luck; that's just how it goes. It's what you get from stealing from a defenseless woman as I."

She teased with a faux sort of hopeless frown, though quickly shifted to an amused laugh as she lowered her head forward, shaking it with an amused air of disbelief at Angela's insistence. Already feeling rather grimy from having dunked her head and her hair covering her torso with the same uncomfortable wetness, Angela merely stood there with a pained face, turning to leave, well aware that the prisoner would not be eating or drinking for the rest of the day. Fareeha seemed to recognize it as well, a sigh leaving her as she spoke up to catch her attention.

"Okay, okay, I won't be mean anymore, okay? I'd very much like to eat," Fareeha spoke up, trying to hide her pleading behind a lighthearted voice, "I won't even bring up the stolen necklace, alright? C'mon, I'll give you some blini that's sweet instead of spicy."

Angela had already stopped in her path, though the promise of that Russian delicacy she'd always wanted to try captivated her enough for her to spin her head around, running her thumb and forefinger across her closed eyes in her own detestable view of her own self for taking a step back toward the crate, shaking her head in exasperation.

"I think it's that one, with the green lid," she instructed lightly, "I think they've even got cinnamon in there. If you sneak it into whatever kind of oven you have aboard, it'll be ten-times better."

Angela followed her instruction, pulling out the box and pulling it toward her silently enough that it threw Fareeha off before she went on, "Oh come on, I was just screwing with you. Angela, right? Look, I don't know why you keep coming down here, but as long as you're my avenue for food, I guess I need to at least be cordial. You  _did_ save me from drowning, I suppose."

Angela half-shrugged, "'could'a saved me from that spicy shit."

"Yeah, I guess so," Fareeha grinned, "Just try one of those and see if it doesn't help your mood."

Carefully picking from the case the rolled up dough that made up the blini, Angela made sure to smell it first, catching the gentle whiff of cinnamon'd sugar with a pleasant nod of her head, "I guess it smells pretty good."

"Right?" Fareeha replied, "I think it came from a bakery in Kiev, so they said when I picked it up in Morocco. They could literally tell you anything, but at least these are good."

Angela's eyes wandered over toward her, "Morocco? Did you ever see Carthage?"

"I went by there once or twice. I captained a small schooner for a year or two, we worked along the whole Mediterranean. What, you got a thing for ancient times?"

Angela shyly turned away, "It was all I could get enough to read about. Reading so much, it was sort of an escape, I suppose; I mean, not even Rome or Carthage, but any story, I could be totally lost in."

A smile crossed Fareeha's face, the intimate setting and offering seeming to have opened up the way to conversation with this dame, a knowing pang crossing her as she spoke up, "Well, you gonna eat it? I'm still hungry, you know."

"Oh!" went Angela, embarrassed by having divulged so much.

She took another sniff, just to make sure, before daintily taking the small roll of pancake into her mouth, her senses awash with sweetness at the immediate hint of sugar and cinnamon. She shut her eyes as she took in the pleasant puff of flavor, even if it was too much; anything was preferable to the assault of her previous taste of blini.

"Well, you make it look good," Fareeha noted with a boyish grin, breaking Angela from her heavenly reverie with a start, a line of crimson rushing to her face in embarrassment.

Fareeha gave a snorting sort of chuckle before shrugging, "Okay, my turn; you said you came down here to feed me, right?"

"O-Oh, yeah," Angela stammered, putting aside her half-eaten blini and pulling out another, raising it toward Fareeha, who receptively opened her mouth wide, forcing another hushed muttering from the captain's daughter, "W-W-What?!"

Shrugging easily, Fareeha replied, "What? You're to feed me, correct?"

"Feed you?! Like this?!" Angela cried out.

"I mean, you could untie me and see how quickly I can escape your grasp if it would make you feel better" Fareeha answered easily.

Angela but her lip, weighing her options as Fareeha went on, "Why'd you think it was so demeaning to those two? They hated it, especially the springy one; I made sure she had to prepare some of the stuff that requires to hands so she'd have to wince as she held a bowl or something for me to eat soup out of. Pretty funny stuff, actually; she hated every minute she was down here."

Lowering her head ashamedly, Angela stiffened her lips as she let out a sigh from her nose, willing up the courage to progress. She eyed her hand as it folded the blini into a tighter roll that might fit into the stowaway's mouth, Angela slowly aiming her stare at Fareeha's lips. Her hand would be so close to her, mere inches from that skin that looked as golden brown and delicious as the pastry she'd just fit between her lips. For a moment, she wanted little more than to have that skin between her lips as well. For all the rigidity of Fareeha's character, Angela was irrepressibly moved to lust when given enough of a moment to truly study the woman's form and her toasted skin. So deliciously exotic, she thought, her mind blanking slightly as Fareeha visibly grew impatient.

"Okay, princess. Me. Hungry. Now," she spoke up seriously, forcing Angela back to reality as she came to a startle."

Angela nodded with a carelessly slow speed, nearly giving away how lost she was, reaching her out further as Fareeha tilted her head backward, awaiting the pastry to get into position without hitting her face, swiftly sliding forward and taking a bite, sending a shiver down Angela's arm s if she'd been afraid the woman would bit more than the pastry, taking some of her fingers as well. The shivering continued as she watched Fareeha's satisfied face, her eyes closed while chewing the delicacy, a gentle hum of pleasing taste escaping her mutely before swallowing the blini.

"Mmm," she nodded happily, "Truly a delicacy."

Angela's stayed sneakily focused on her face, fixated on the swirling line of ink that ran around her eye in random patters, before catching herself tracing Fareeha's lips, finding a bit of sugar just along her bottom lip, wanting nothing more in her blank reverie than to combine the delicacy she has just tasted with the one she was so incredibly forbidden from tasting.

Despite Angela's absentminded stare, Fareeha opened her mouth once again, eyes closed, before muttering instructively, "I want more."

Angela's insides coiled frustratingly, those words carrying a far too dangerous connotation into Angela's ears. She reached up her hand to greet Fareeha's lips with more of her treat, though as she moved forward, she found herself crawling closer, Angela's heart beginning to beat rapidly. She'd already been taken by the lips by this woman. Why would she even mind a second

_BOOM_

The world around Angela shook violently as her body teetered off balance, her legs suddenly jerking forward as the Splitstream swung back and forth in a sudden shock, catching herself on one of the slatted panels of wood beneath her. Angela's head whipped around in sudden terror, her disorientation leading her to watching Fareeha's fierce face staring up curiously up toward the decks above.

"I think you guys are under-"

_BOOM!_

Angela gasped under her breath as the ship took another hit, rising onto her shaky legs as she carefully made her way along the swaying floor beneath her, rushing up toward the main deck to ascertain what on earth, or sea, was going on, leaving Fareeha behind with an unamused face, shaking her bound wrists against the beam that held her still where she was.

"Uh, hello?!" she wondered loudly, though Angela was out of earshot by then, leaving the former captain to sigh to herself with a shake of the head, "Amateurs."

Working her way up to her feet, Fareeha held the rope at her wrist down against its crossbeam, giving her a leverage point as she jumped, swinging her lower body into the air and arcing right into the pole she'd been strapped to, her ankle grasping its peak to leave her hanging upside down. She skillfully shook her other foot, her boot rocking loose until a tiny, serrated knife fell out from where it had been loosely anchored for such an occasion, having done so to where the knife fell into her hands.

"You get unlucky; only a matter of time before it rubs off," she mused to herself with a frown, swinging back down to her feet and working the knife along the rope that kept her bound, "Looks like this is where I get off. Hopefully it's not bad company."


	23. Splitstream vs. Hanamura

Angela rushed up the narrow staircase that wound around beneath the deck of the ship, scurrying along as fast as she could with her hand clutched along the top of the railing that followed along. She suddenly jerked to the side as she nearly ran into Junkrat, who was running the opposite direction, his pegged leg clattering along quickly as Angela spun to watch him furiously rush down onto the gun deck.

"This is what I get paid fer, Sheila!" he spoke up loudly with an excitement that failed to translate to Angela's deepening wariness.

She continued on up the stairs, the faint voice of Hana crossing her ear as she continued, the officer's volume increasing as Angela made her way further up the stairwell, panic setting in as Hana's voice deepened in its own fearful tone. Angela cast a glance as she rounded the corner, advancing with haste while Hana furiously jammed her radio pieces into various plugs, desperately attempting to find whatever band the Hanamura's radio systems were operating on, trying to get any kind of word across toward peace.

"This is the Splitstream!" she cried into the speaker that shook in her hand, "Requesting an immediately cease fire! I repeat, requesting an immediate cease fire!"

She continued shouting out as she jammed her jacks along the various plugs, her other hand rushing to spin the corresponding band wheel to try anything to communicate with the advancing ship. Angela's feet clamored up the rest of the stairs, her wet hair causing a sharp chill to greet her as she smashed through the door and came into the bright sun of the deck, the massive cries of angered voices greeting her as she stood there in shock, wide-eyed.

For a split second, Angela's eyes just the massive, brilliant masts of the Hanamura she recalled from San Francisco, though her eyes were quickly undone by the sunlight overhead, forcing her hand over her face. Just then, she jumped in surprise, her blood chilling at the large battle cry of somebody entering her vision as a silhouette, her body instinctively hopping g backward as the dark figure ran toward her in a mad dash, a cutlass raised above his head.

"YAAAA- Ouf!"

Suddenly, the visage of her father broke into her view, Captain Morrison throwing his body into the stranger's, sending him into the wall of the ship with a crunching, curdling sort of sound before Jack yanked the man toward him, throwing a hearty fist into his face, sending the attacker to the ground with a thud. Jack stood there for a moment as his shoulders trembled from his rapid breaths, turning to see his daughter's frightened face.

"F-Father! What's going-?!"

He swiftly bent down to bring her to her feet, speaking coolly, "Stay in the ship."

"B-But I wanna-!"

"Stay," Jack replied, his voice a frigid tone, "We've got this."

He pulled Angela along before directing her back into the interior of the ship, throwing the door closed as another deafening blast of gunpowder blew across the scene.

* * *

_BOOM_

Junkrat sauntered along at the ship teetered once more, a gasp escaping him as his rack of cannonballs began rolling from side to side along the floor, his feet bounding about as he dodged their sauntering advance, hoping to his first cannon's side, striking it gently as he bent his head low to peer out the window from which it was to fire from, watching the gleaming panels at the Hanamura's side like polished glass.

"A'ight, Lucille," he whispered, so close that his hot breath collected at the cannon's surface. "This is what yer built fer. Make me proud."

He readied her for her first blast, running over to grab a cannonball, tossing in a satchel of gunpowder, and rolling the cannonball down Lucille's neck, hopping to her backside and crouching to make a final adjustment.

Satisfied with her aim, Junkrat struck a match, gritting his teeth as he lit the fuse, bracing himself as he growled, "Fuck with us, Shimadas!"

_BOOM!_

Lucille's explosive bark sent Junkrat's body flying backwards as she bucked against the chains holding her in place, leaving Junkrat only a split second to coordinate his vision as the cannonball smashed I to the Hanamura's side before violently smiling into another direction and falling into the ocean. Junkrat's eyes widened in shock as he worked his way back to his feet, awestruck that he'd managed a direct hit, yet no damage was done.

"I'll be a joey's logsnapper…" Junkrat marveled, though in a worrisome tone.

Undeterred, he rushed toward the largest cannon aboard, Angela, and repeated the process with barred teeth as he breathed heatedly, taking moments away from his process as he readier another shot.

* * *

Jesse grabbed one of the interloper's collars, tossing him right into the ocean below before turning to encounter another, a swift punch to the face disposing of him. Jesse turned up toward the Hanamura, a considerably larger ship whose masts were gigantic. The Shimadas had been sending their own crew down the giant booms that held down the bottoms of the incredibly-sized masts, merely a jump down to the Splitstream's deck. Jesse grimaced as he whipped around to find Lena, his third mate crawling up and down the net shrouds as she tried to work her way down without being thrown off as the result of cannon fire.

"Lena!" he shouted quickly, another Shimada companyman rushing him, "Get their booms outta the way!"

She gave him an affirmative thumbs-up before scurrying back up the shroud and jumping up onto the giant perpendicular boom of the Hanamura. As she did so, a pair of companymen stood teetering in her way, unstable as they stood atop the narrow boom. Lena grinned though, having grown up on thinner platforms, cocking her head inquisitively.

"You two goin' for a swim?"

The men recoiled in surprise, though Lena simply rushed skillfully down the wooden beam, one foot at the head of the other, sending her leg straight out as she leapt into the air, hurdling over the men and landing easily along the length of the boom, leaving the two men astounded and wide-eyed, quickly loosing their balance and falling into sea below.

"Pfft, easy!" Lena declared as she made her way up toward the mechanism that spun the boom of the Hanamura, frowning as she gave it a cursory examination, "Bollocks! What the hell are they workin' with here?!"

Her eyes remained on the foreign mechanism when a sudden  _CLAP_ of gunfire broke her concentration, her arms jerking her around the massive pole that went ventricle to hold the gigantic mast, finding cover as Hanzo brought his gun to his side, skillfully readying it for another shot.

"This is  _my_ ship!" he declared loudly.

Lena snuck an angered glance around the large pole, "And  _that_  one's ours!"

Hanzo sneered, "Not for long, woman."

He threw his arms up as his musket cracked the air, sending shrapnel right past Lena as she braced back behind the mast's pole, her body shaking fearfully as Hanzo spoke up, "I was practicing kyūdō before I could even reason. You think you're gonna take another step off my boom, you've got another thing coming."

Angela stood on the inside of the Splitstream, a frown stretching across her face in an angry grimace. She was as much a crewman as anybody else, so why was she holed up in here?! She spun to her side, reaching out to grab a nearby wrench, her hand beginning to ache as she gripped it so tightly, pushing her way through the door, the deck now crowded with companymen. She immediately tried to locate her father, Jack wrangling a group of men by the port side, and she rushed over, her weapon over her head before throwing her arms across her body l and sending the wrench into the enemy's head.

"Angela?!" he cried out in terror, "What're you-?!"

She threw an accusing finger at him, " _You_ need my help! I can look after myself, so let me-!"

Jack immediately reached out to grab her arm, yanking her close as a companyman leapt toward them, sending a lengthy blade breaking the air. Jack put himself in between the two, pulling Angela into his back as his grip tightened around her wrist. As the man readied another attack, Lucio cane sliding across the deck, his trajectory bringing him careening right for the assailant as he readied himself for impact.

"Time to accel-! Woah!"

He lost his balance, falling right on his ass as he came to a sliding halt at the man's feet, the companyman scowling at him, though it was enough of a distraction for Jack to send a vicious punch to his face, the man flying across the deck as Jack waved his aching hand to relieve the pain.

"Watch your back," Jack instructed fiercely, "Now get back in the ship. Lucio, make sure she stays safe in there, alright?"

"Father!" she cried helplessly, "I can help!"

He gave a serious stare, "Not now. This is life and death, Angela, you're not going to-"

"What about  _your_ life?!"

Jack kept his still glance on her for a brief moment before pointing at Lucio to instruct him along, his chef gingerly taking Angela's shoulders and directing her back toward the ship's interior, Angela scowling back at her father over her shoulder. Captain Morrison kept an eye on Jesse to ensure his not being overpowered before returning to protecting his ship.

* * *

Hana threw her closed fists against the console, skillfully shoving the jacks into their proper places at a blazing speed, trying to get word out on every bandwidth she could get it on. Whether getting on with somebody on the Hanamura, or just another ship somewhere, she was growing ever so desperate, blindly sending her words wherever they could go.

"This is the Splitstream!" she cried, repeatedly, "We're under attack! Requesting any aid possible!"

Eventually, her frustration growing, her movements became more furious, tears welling up as the ship continued being sent swaying violently with every cannon blast, her desperation turning more and more to fury. She groaned loudly, rapidly toying with her console, ashamed that she was doing nothing while her ship was clearly under attack, that she simply began cursing into the microphone, realizing blankly that she was the only one listening anyway.

"Fuck…" she spoke with a wavering breath, her crying growing gradually as her throat began to choke up, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK!"

Despite her welling emotions her hands continued nonstop, rattling wheels and jacking in her headphones rapidly, though her movements began to wane as defeat grew within her, her shoulders quaking as she began to cry as she stood there, utterly helpless, her fingers turning the dials slowly, slowly, her headphones clicking less and less as the channels she passed through began to cease.

"-uck…"

Her eyes flew open, her ears ringing as the sudden noise in the headphones grew louder.

"-uck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! FUCK!"

Hana shot a quick glance at the console, utterly confused. Why was she hearing her own message?! Her mind wrangled itself, pulling at its own cords as her mind went into curiosity overdrive, suddenly popping a hypothesis into existence. She leapt out of the room, charging down the stairwell, nearly tripping over her own feet as she made a mad dash into the gun room, noticing Junkrat furiously rushing from one cannon to another, preparing them in a rhythmic fashion, leaving none of the ones unmanned that faced the Hanamura. Hopping over the railing and falling onto the gun deck with a  _THUD_ , Hana rushed to his side as he began to fire once more, her hands outstretched toward him.

"Stop! Stop!" she shouted, earning a confused glance from the gunner.

He wondered critically, "What?! Sheila, I'm tryin' ta-!"

"It's not working!" She shouted, Junkrat's frustrated confusion turning to curiosity as her words were correct, "Look, their hull is shingled, see? It's modeled after their- you know, their sword peopl- samurai! Those plates are designed for cannons to glance off of them- that's why my radio signals were bouncing back to me!"

Junkrat crosses his arms, "Well, just what're we gonna do about it?"

"I think it's just meant to be a distraction," Hana wondered aloud, "That vessel is steam powered- literally, one well-aimed shot from us and that entire thing goes up in a plume of vapor. They're counting on you getting frustrated and expelling all your cannonballs on shots that do nothing."

Her body spun around, "I need to let Captain know; I just needed you to quit- just don't fire anymore, alright? We need to figure this out!"

Hana sped back up the stairwell, leaving Junkrat with a scrunched-up face as his mind meandered, allowing his eyes to peer out at the Hanamura through the cannon's door, now realizing the shingles design Hana had mentioned. He wondered quietly, trying to figure out a plan; they hadn't much time to act, he knew, his feet beginning to pace back and forth in thought.

"Squeak!"

He frowned, "This ain't the time, Hamm'nd! I'm not about to screw up again but not actin'! I've gotta just-!"

"Squeeeak!"

Groaning, Junkrat turned to see Hammond doing his best to roll out of the disused cannon he'd usually hide him in, the ball teetering just on the edge before rolling back toward the interior of the iron cylinder. Junkrat stepped over, turning the cannon over and allowing the hamster ball to roll out onto the floor, leaving Hammond to happily stray around the whole of the gun deck.

"This ship won't ev'n be around much longa' if ya keep buggin' me!" Junkrat complained, returning his attention to the Hanamura when a thought appeared in his mind, his head whipping back around to examine the cannon that Hammond had rolled out from.

"Hmm, well not that ya mention it, little guy…" Junkrat muttered under his breath.

* * *

Lucio pushed Angela away as a companyman waves a cutlass in their direction, the chef swiftly throwing a towel around the man's neck and yanking him down onto the deck as Lucio also threw himself up into the air, landing with a bone-crushing knee to the man's back before waving Angela along, her eyes open in fright.

"A family man, huh?" she asked aloud in awe.

He smirked, "Hey, we've all got our own hidden pasts. Just hurry and get inside."

"Uh, how about no?" Angels replies in defiance, waving her wrench in the air, "I don't care what my father said; I'm as much a crewman as any one of you- I'm gonna help get rid of these fools!"

Lucio shrugged, repeated another's words, "Well, he ain't my father, so I haven't a choice. My Captain gives me an order, I do it. If you're as much a crewman as me, you'll listen to You're Captain, alright?"

"But he's only doing it because I'm not just a crewman to him!" Angela bit back.

"Look, you'll just have to ask him after this is over," Lucio concluded with a rushed voice, "Just get inside and relieve him of his worrying about your safe-"

A chill crawled down his spine as his head rose to find a body flying through the air, anchored to a rope with green hair waving ominously, such a person known well to Lucio as he jumped back toward Angela. The body of Genji slammed onto the deck, falling forward into a roll as he caught his momentum, kicking himself to his feet while turning to watch the two with a crippling smirk.

"Hello, Splitstream patrons," he began.

Lucio grimaced, "Figured you'd finally join your men in their dirty work, huh?"

Shrugging, Genji replied, "There's something to be said about a man who compels others to perform in his service, even unto their deaths."

"It means your coffers are deeper than their respect," Lucio went on, earning a chuckle from the invader.

"My coin is more valuable than your lives will ever be," Genji snickered, "Now if you'll excuse me, this ship ain't gonna be the only thing being split when I'm through."

He took a step forward, Lucio lunging at him to gain the early advantage, yet Genji immediately blew past him, grappling his shoulder and throwing him to his side, allowing a sharp knee stroke to blast into his stomach, Lucio's face widening in a split second as every ounce of breath escaped him. Genji grabbed his thick strands of hair, yanking him back up and sending a severe elbow stroke into his head, Lucio falling to the deck with a  _THUD_.

"And there's the splitting headache," Genji shrugged, almost sadly, as though wanting a more playful battle, though he turned to Angela with an evil grin, "We're gonna have a fun time figuring out what I mean by splitting you down the middle."

Angela's brow furrowed angrily, her arms flying forward to send her wrench careening toward Genji's head, though he just as quickly dodged the weapon, snickering as Angela spun around to run toward her father for help, though she only managed two strides before Genji already had her from behind, his arms wrapped tightly behind her as she struggled vehemently.

"F-Father!" she cried out, though that only infuriated her assailant all the more, Genji yanking her to the side and whipping a fist into her face, sending her body limp as she blew into a daze, her eyes shaking as the world spun around her.

* * *

Jack's head immediately clicked to the side at the sound of his daughter's voice, his eyes growing in fear as he noticed Genji with Angela limply hanging from his arm. He immediately dove forward, though in his focus, a handful of companymen suddenly lunged at him, sending him down onto the deck as his arms furiously struggled. He managed to remove a few before peering through one of their legs, noticing Genji with a rope wrapped around his arm, rushing toward the side of the ship with Angela in tow, Jack's heart racing at a malicious pace, threatening to burst from his chest.

"Jesse!" he shouted, pinned down by the lot of companymen, his voice growing into a growing, blood-curdled panic as his lungs nearly evaporated with his shouting, "JESSE!"

Along the deck, Jesse's attention yanked away, watching Genji swinging back toward the Hanamura with Angela in his possession, the old sea dog's face suddenly growing fierce as he turned toward the Hanamura ascertaining his next course of action. He couldn't make it to the shroud in time to keep track of Angela, a steady worry building within him as his reckless youth crept into his mind, such a jump between two ships at such proximity not having been an issue before his wife and children. His heart quivered as he nearly froze while staring at the deck's side, the albatross hanging from his neck weighing heavier with every second, side to tear him from his trajectory and into the endless depths of the ocean.

"JESSE!"

He shut his ends, sending spots of water into the air as he turned on his heel, strutting quickly to the opposite end of the side before breaking into a maddening sprint toward the ship's edge. He couldn't hesitate, he remembered his captain, his friend, speaking not days earlier. His vision went fuzzy from the pure rush of adrenaline, his leg kicking up as he leapt to the ship's thick edge, launching himself into the air, waving his arms and legs furiously to carry himself through the sky, his breath forced out of him as his entire body slammed into the side of the Hanamura, his vision weakening as cold blood coursed through his veins.

His hands grabbed a hold of the space between the shingling, turning wearily to see Genji repelling up the ship's side with ease, leaving the sea dog groaning and grunting as he ascended the hill with care, though remaining quick to match the Shimada man's gait.

Back on the Splitstream, Jack forced the last of the companymen off of himself as he threw himself up to his feet, watching the Hanamura wearily as the invaders began to make their way back across to their mother ship by way of ropes, following their second leader's lead. Jack grabbed his coat, tearing it from his shoulders as he readied himself to jump, though at that moment, Hana Song stormed out from inside the ship in a furious rampage, crying out.

"Stop! Stop!" she pleaded, complaining as she slowed up, "Goddamn, you all need to learn patience!"

Jack didn't wait to retort, "They've got my daughter! I'm not about to-!"

"Captain Morrison!" Hana shouted loud enough to quiet him, "If you want to keep that ship from turning and leaving us in the dust, you'll listen! Fuck, man!"

Taken aback, her Captain paused for a moment, realizing her reasoning; ultimately, if they could somehow cripple the Hanamura, Angela wouldn't be going anywhere. He allowed his head to slow before returning to ask further.

"O-Okay, what did you have in m-?"

She interrupted again, "Get on that wheel and keep this ship as steady as possible! Junkrat and I are gonna need steady hands to aim the shot correctly, right between their armor! So if you're anything of a captain, get up there and do what you're supposed to!"

Unsure as his own status at this moment, Jack merely nodded and rushed back toward the stern side, clamoring up the exterior stairs with reckless abandon while Hana disappeared back into the ship to return to Junkrat, hoping him to have the patience, now, to wait for her command.

* * *

Immediately upon hopping onto the deck of the Hanamura, Jesse's eyes caught a flash of gunpowder, sending his body tumbling to avoid a bullet that accompanied the flash of muzzle fire. He braced himself behind a nearby crate as Hanzo reloaded his firearm once again, allowing Lena to dash along the boom, counting in her head the amount of time he'd be taking, jumping down onto the deck behind a collection of barrels under Hanzo's critical eyes.

Genji passed him with Angela being forced along, her senses still impaired as her mind swirled, the Shimada's sharing a word as the younger spoke up, "They'll do anything as long as we have this one."

"Let's hope so," Hanzo nodded, "We've got two aboard- over there and there. I'll keep 'em pinned until our men have returned; get to the wheelhouse and set a course, full steam ahead."

"Yes, dear brother," Genji replied with a grin, "I'll keep her confined until that man sells his very soul to us for her return."

Hanzo replied affirmatively under his breath as Genji continued along the deck toward the wheelhouse, prepared to have his new prize restrained at all costs.

* * *

Junkrat set a match, lighting the lengthy wick at the back of 'Angela', the largest cannon being the only one he could fit in, before rushing along the gun deck, lighting the others in succession, only to return to Angela, diving feet-first into the iron maw as he eyed Hammond, the small hamster watching curiously.

"Is it stupid?! Nah, nah! Totally not!" Junkrat explained, unable to wholly hide his nerves, "J-Just gotta, ya know, fire myself over there, somehow grab tha hull, yank off a piece a' tha shingle 'n pray these other cannons don't obliterate my own arse instead of the Hanamura! No big deal, right?!"

Hammond slowly spun around in his ball, unable to watch.

"W-Well, maybe a bit more thought might'a-"

_BANG-YEEEEEEOWW!_

* * *

The Splitstream suddenly shook, forcing Hana to slide to a stop along the stairwell, her eyes alight with horror as her mouth fell open.

"Fuck…"

* * *

Junkrat felt as though his nose had been sent right into his face as he peeled his head from the Hanamura's hull, quickly looking over his head, attempting to retroactively figure out where any one of the side cannons were going to hit- having essentially given himself multiple attempts. He sidled down to where it seemed the closest cannon would fire, a terrified gulp entering his gut as he reminded himself not to look down. He quickly examined the shingle, trying to figure out any weak points in its construction, finding a crease where the panel was fused to the hull itself.

"Gotcha!" he cried out happily, swinging around in front of the panel and grasping either edge before pulling with his entire body outward, his face cringing painfully as his entire body tensed up.

He muttered to himself in his strain, "Come ooooon… Juuust a liiiitle-… Hang on, were those sixty second fuses? Or ninety?"

His eyes widened as his jumped into overdrive, swinging back and grasping the adjacent shingle, wildly kicking at the panel with all his might, "C'MON NOW! If it ain't Aussie, it's flawed, see?!"

His foot pounded at the panel again and again, "Come! On! You! Piece'a! Sh-!"

The panel suddenly flew off, though in his momentum, Junkrat's body sailed forward just in front of the bare section of the Hanamura. He scrambled to return to safety, thinking nothing but saving himself, but in that moment, his mind was drowned out by the phenomenal cacophony of cannon fire, a massive plume of smoke billowing out the Splitstream's side as Lucille, Dingo, and Charlie ejected their gunpowder payload into explosions, sending three cannonballs hurtling toward the Hanamura with reckless abandon. Two smacked into shingles, bounding off and into random directions. Dingo's hit dead-center into Junkrat, sending the cannonball, and Junkrat, directly into the Hanamura, the gigantic flagship suddenly wavering wildly as a gaping hole appeared at its side, such a wound having never felled the vessel.

* * *

Hanzo's eyes flew wide open, his arms instinctively flying out to outstretch on either side to balance himself as the Hanamura shook, his eyes catching Jesse's body barreling around the corner, though his arms seemed to move in slow-motion, unable to keep up with his vision. He swung his rifle toward Jesse's path, but just before matching the man's fierce stride, a body threw itself into Hanzo's side, Lena knocking the gun from his hand and sending the two careening across the deck. Hanzo immediately threw a furious punch to rid himself of Lena, who quickly jumped back to join Jesse as Hanzo quickly recovered to his feet, angrily holding his hand into a fist, unable to present anything in the way of the pain searing at his rib cage from the strike.

"You'll regret that…" he muttered.

Jesse shrugged, "Sure about that? Ya took a pretty big hit from a girl, there; 'n yer ship ain't feelin' so well, idn't?"

"Yeah! Not bad from a crew a fraction of the size as yours!" Lena declared, "We ain't aplenty, but we're scrappy!"

Hanzo seethed, "This ship…will not fall… It is the pride of my people…"

"At this expense of  _us_ people?" Jesse questioned, "Yeah, ya got a problem there, jack. I have a family ta return to, not a bed a' dollar bills like you."

Hanzo cursed in Japanese before reaching a hand to his waist, whipping out a curved sword and aiming at the two intruders, "You have no idea what it means to my people to have a global stage when, mere decades ago, we hadn't a foot in anywhere. I'll gladly sacrifice your family, and your little puppet over there, for the whole of my people."

Frowning, Jesse relieved his shoulders as he pointed a thumb toward Lena, "Don't call 'er a puppet; it'll only make her-"

"You wanna say that again, ya bastard!" Lena cried out angrily.

Hanzo's lips curled mildly, "I've no qualms. I'll kill you both, regardless."

* * *

Genji breathed a sigh of relief, finding himself lying atop the deck after the Hanamura had shaken so violently, working his way up to his feet and finding Angela in his disorientation, the captain's daughter weakly working her own way up, having regained only a few of her faculties. Genji forced himself to rise, grabbing Angela's arm mid-stride and pulling her up as he complained.

"It wasn't supposed to be so much trouble!" he sneered unhappily.

Angela finally realized what was going on, her arms suddenly swinging into action, hitting all she could get at of Genji's body, gradually regaining her strength, her swipes becoming more and more of an annoyance to her captor. Genji suddenly yanked her up, wrapping his arms around her arms and torso, keeping her arms bound as her feet began to churn angrily.

"N-Now quit it! It's you chill the fuck out, it'll all be over sooner than- Hey! Quit-! Goddamn, when I can get you tied down!" he quibbled with himself angrily, "If you don't quit your fighting right this second, I'll-!"

_THUD_

Genji shot around, the body of a tanned woman kneeling atop the deck mere meters away, her arm entwined with the thick rope of the Hanamura, strewn partly red with the blood of whomever companyman she'd assaulted to attain the line. Her head lifted gently, her dark eyes shone behind her tattooed face, leaving Genji with an inquisitive smirk.

"Your face," he muttered, Angela having paused her resistance at the sight of Fareeha, "You've laid eyes on the devil…"

Fareeha stood up, unwinding the rope and tying it around her waist, "You've got something that belongs to me."

Although mostly numb by now, Angela's body still retained the ability to blush, though Genji wasn't amused in the slightest, "Nuh uh. I don't care if you have laid your  _body_  atop the devil's and fucked your way into some demon magic- this girl stays with me. She's the only thing keeping my brother and myself of dominating this powerful ocean, and I don't intend to relinquish her quietly."

Fareeha's stare worsened, "I don't care about the girl; do whatever you want with her."

Angela's eyes flew open wide in terror as Fareeha went on, "She's got a necklace in her possession. Give me that and we're square, y'hear?"

As though attempting to figure out her game, Genji's face tightened curiously, his voice light, "You're serious?"

She nodded.

"Fuck it; I'd have assumed somebody with that tattoo would mean serious business," Genji muttered casually, "Yeah, I'll get you that necklace, hold- Fuck! Stop it!"

His hand slithered across Angela's chest in search of the ornament described, forcing his captive to throw her free arm and legs against him, tears welling up in her eyes as the hope of her savior diminished rapidly. Her eyes reddened tearfully as Genji shoved a hand into her last remaining pocket, yanking out the necklace and proudly showing it off to his newest guest.

"Voila!" he exclaimed, tossing it to Fareeha, who accepted it readily, "Now if you'll  _excuse me_ …" he paused to restrain Angela, her fight only intensifying, "This one's rather disagreeable, as you see; I'll have to restrain her in chains or something. Go on! Have a life boat, I don't care! I'm a big fan of those with such marks!"

Genji turned back around, moving slowly as he attempted to retrain Angela while walking, growing more exasperated with each step and far more likely to simply knock her out again. As his patience thinned further and further, he finally knee'd Angela forward, grappling her back toward him as he readied a fist, prepared to do just that when, suddenly, a blow came at him first, sending him falling to the deck as he clutched his cheek, pushing himself up with only one arm, hobbling to steady himself as he eyed his new assailant, Fareeha stepping around him to somewhat take her spot between the two.

"You…" Genji seethed, "You're fuckin' dead."


	24. Earning One's Keep

Steam ejected into the air with furtive blasts as Mei cautiously made her way through the massive path of destruction that had come through her hallway, the look on her face one of utter astonishment, even it if was because she hadn't seen the sun in a few days. Sure enough, as she crouched low, she could peer down the hallway and right into the gigantic hole that sat in the side of the Hanamura, letting in a blinding sunlight that forced her to step back cautiously as her eyes were struck by the dilating sensation. Her feet moved cautiously as so much of the ship's hull had exploded and blown into the ship's interior as scrap metal that lined the floor, her eyes immediately examining the complex lines of piping that seemed unaffected, thankfully.

A sudden rustling of metal broke her examination, her body recoiling fearfully as she pulled her giant wrench back against her chest in self defense, a pile of scrap metal slowly rising up before an arm shot out from its ghostly appearance, a strange-looking man emerging with a massive cry of relief.

"WHEW-EE! What a rush!" Junkrat exclaimed, rolling his torso around his waist to work out the kinks in his bone structure, "I haven't had a kick 'n the pants like that since I battled the Big Bad Yobbo in the Thunda'dome! Now let's see…"

He began spinning around as though looking for something, Mei's body remaining so incredibly still in fright that he hadn't even noticed her, a croaking voice trying to work its way out her lungs as she realized he wasn't supposed to be in here, "D-D-D- Y-You're not- Y- S-S-…"

"Steam, steam… What did that Mako guy always say about steam-? If it goes boom, it'll send ya to yer doom? No no, that's rum… No wait! Maybe it was steam…"

His legs powerfully moved through the pile of scrap as he began wandering around the half-destroyed portion of the steam hall, Mei's courage more or less forced to rise to the surface as he began examining her work, running a curious finger along the pipes that ran the steam channels, Mei's voice finally piping up, "S-S-STOP!"

Junkrat hopped backwards, tripping on a torn piece of hull and falling backwards, though he was quick to jump back to his feet, grabbing a bolt on his way up and holding it before him as though it were a weapon, "H-Hey, sheila! You'll give a man a heart attack doin' that!"

"S-Sorry!" she replied sincerely, despite waving the wench in her hand wildly as she gesticulated her apology, "I-It's just that- You're not allowed, uh… I'm the only one supposed to be down here."

Junkrat nodded, "Ah, I getcha. I think the rules change when  _we're_ under attack though!"

Mei's eyes opened wide, "A-Attack?! F-F-From whom?!"

Struggling to remember what Hana had referred to this ship as, Junkrat merely shrugged, "I dunno; I can't remember the boat's name. Offica' Song said we needed ta' take out the steam engines though, so that's what I'm doin'!"

"O-Officer Song?!" Mei cried out in confusion, not recognizing the name, "A-Are they in direct communication with-"

"The Captain? Well of course!" Junkrat interrupted impatiently, "I'm just tryin' to follow orders, so if you'll excuse me-"

He began swinging at the pipes hanging from the ceiling, earning a flurrious response from Mei, whose arms began waving in front of her, trying to stop him, "W-W-Wait! You don't know what you're doing! I need to let the Captain know how dangerous that is! So just- just cut it out please!"

She spun around, charging through the hallway to receive clarification as Junkrat paused, watching her exit before returning his attention to the pipes above, continuing his assault as he frowned, "Cute girl. Too bad we have to be on opposite sides."

* * *

Genji took a step back as he entered into a battle stance, his arms readied out in front of him while Fareeha simply stretched out her knuckles, the Shimada man goading her on with a sneering voice, "I trained in jujutsu for fifteen years, kenjutsu for twelve, and more koryū bujutsu than you could even ascertain the existence of in twenty-seven lifetimes. If you think you're going to stand up to me, you're sadly mistaken."

Fareeha remained steady, "Well I spent eight years in the night clubs of Katerini learning how to beat people's asses, so don't bother telling me you're gonna stop me; I've taken out larger bruisers than you without breaking a sweat."

Slightly confused by such a description, Genji managed to remain still, whatever nerves that had been trembling within him gradually coming to a stop, "Your captain has been a thorn in my brother's side since-"

" _My_ captain?!" Fareeha asked wonderously, breaking her stance, "I don't  _have_ a captain; those idiots tied me up and help me in the brig for the last two or so weeks!"

Now unable to hide his confusion, Genji's eyes clenched, "Then why the fuck are we doing this?!"

Pointing toward Angela, Fareeha answered, "'cause that shit you were pulling is unacceptable. The only one here who's gonna tie up a pretty girl is  _me_ , and trust me, it won't be nearly as malicious as you were hoping it to be."

Angela's face blew up crimson as she watched the encounter with fearful anticipation, not fully understanding what was occurring before her eyes. With another sneer, Genji shook his head with a chuckle, running a hand along his face with exasperation.

"I never would have had this assault had I known the Splitstream crew was highly practiced in the art of stupidity; that's an artform that can only be bred, not taught."

Fareeha frowned, "I agree. but again, I'm not a part of their crew."

She threw her body forward, leading with her knee, which Genji immediately took into his open palm, though Fareeha grabbed the rope tied to her waist, keeping herself aloft as she spun to the side, ejecting the lower part of her foot past Genji's hand to send her foot smashing into the side of his face, forcing Genji hobbling backwards as Fareeha landed on the deck.

His eyes peered between the hand clutching his face, his teeth barred, "Oh, so we're gonna play  _that_ way, huh?"

* * *

Hana returned to the top deck to find Captain Morrison helping Lucio to his feet, the chef warily stepping in crisscrosses beside his captain, whose arm was the only think keeping him somewhat steady. Hana gave him a cursory glance before turning to examine the Hanamura, her eyes shooting open at the scene of a mass of scrap metal and bits of paper material floating in the wind between the two ships, a massive hold greeting her eyes.

"Mi chen! What the- Did Junkrat do that?!"

Jack chuckled, "It appears so. I don't think it'll be going anywhere soon. Besides the three of us, it seems as though the others are aboard over there. You go get some netting to drape along the side of the ship so that have something to grab a hold of on their way back over; I'll keep us as close as I can get. We're not going anywhere until they're all back over here, understood?"

Hana gave a quick nod before rushing off to grab the length of netting while Jack sat Lucio down against the stern of the ship, patting his head as the chef's head wearily swayed back and forth, "You did well, Lu."

"Did my chili win?" he asked, his mind still reeling, though it only caused a grin from his captain.

"Maybe next time," he replied, another congratulatory pat on his shoulder before Jack rushed up back to the steering wheel, keeping a precautionary eye up toward the deck of the Hanamura, wholly unsure of what might be happened up there.

He knew he wasn't above a little nudge or two. His ship meant little beside the lives of his crew.

* * *

Jesse sat against the backside of a nearby crate, his hand covering the slit of skin along his forearm where Hanzo's bullet had grazed him, though it was still a painful laceration. He grimaced as he looked around, unsure of where Lena had ended up after the commodore had fired at Jesse and given a vicious swing of the rifle in Lena's direction. Jesse had heard the painful sound of it butting into something, though hadn't a clue whether or not it had been Lena herself on the receiving end.

He heard footsteps, heavy ones, not at all Lena's, approaching him from behind the crate, Hanzo's cold words escaping into the breeze, "McCree, right? Jesse McCree."

Slightly taken aback, Jesse's lips turned in confusion as he tore off a slit of his shirt, rapidly wrapping it around his arm as Hanzo explained, "Come on, of course I looked you all up. I respect you all too much to have come all this way just to look into the eyes of strangers before having them gotten out of my way."

"You mean killed," Jesse muttered, "Quit sugarcoating it."

Hanzo chuckled, "I suppose it does ease my mind a bit, yes. Still, I  _do_ respect you. You'd have made an excellent captain; I still haven't a clue why you continuously denied my advances to recruit you. With the Spice Road booming, I'd had a massive trading sector over in Manchuria you'd have been perfect for."

The rifle suddenly cocked back, "You'd probably have been my highest-paid subordinate. Riches, fame; your family would have wanted for nothing."

Jesse's glare steeled at the mention of his family, "Oh, come on; I don't do anything, even reconnaissance, half-assed. There's what, three of them? Leslie, and two kids."

Not liking the line of questioning, Jesse replied, "So focused on me, I'm assuming you took care of Lena back there?"

"She's around," Hanzo shrugged, "With this gun in my hand, I doubt anybody'd seriously confront me. Much less you. I bet this is quite the predicament, what with your family waiting for you to return, and here you are, a mere few footsteps away from death."

Another stomp of Hanzo's boot.

"I didn't do this only to remove this ocean of that ship's blasted presence. You wouldn't take the money, McCree, perhaps negotiations at the end of a gun will persuade you."

Jesse's head cocked to the side incredulously, "You're insane, you know."

"If by that you mean a pretty good businessman, than yes, I suppose so," Hanzo critiqued easily, "I mean, you wouldn't put your family through life without their sole provider, would you? If I were to say I'd kill you, right here, were you not to come aboard, I believe that would be a pretty persuasive proposal, wouldn't you say?"

His eyes shifting toward the deck at his feet, Jesse grinned, "I think you've vastly overestimated the situation, cowboy."

Pushing himself to his feet, Jesse turned out from behind the crate, facing Hanzo and his rifle with a serious stare, "The ocean isn't money to me. You put a price tag on 'er and it only cheapens her. That's why your money never would persuade me. You have all the money in the world, yet you hold the emptiest business at the same time."

"And before you use  _my_ life as a bargaining chip, I'm a goddamn good sailor, but I'm a fucking mess," Jesse continued venomously, pointing a far-off finger into an arbitrary direction, "The only reason those children- the only reason I'm just an ounce of a good man is because of that woman. My life means nothing compared to the lives of my family. So before you think you're dealing with loaded die, you're only bargaining with dice as empty as your entire enterprise."

Hanzo shrugged, "You're only making my next decision that much easier, then, aren't you?"

He threw his arms up in front of him, digging the butt of his rifle into his shoulder as he took aim, Jesse's legs tensing up as his body fell to the side, prepared to leap back behind the-

_CRAC- BOOM_

As the rifle fired, the paneling beneath Hanzo's feet ruptured, the deck exploding upward as a violent ejection of steam blew into the air, sending Hanzo reeling backward, dropping his rifle from the super-heated water that doused his hands. He turned his head suddenly, more spots of his deck bursting upward as vicious spouts of water blew into the air, steam rushing out as the water scorched everything it touched. Terrified, suddenly, of his ship's predicament, Hanzo hopped to his feet, rushing toward the wheelhouse to check the Hanamura's state, when he was suddenly tackled from behind by Jesse, the two men sliding along the moist deck until Jesse finally pulled himself up to Hanzo's head, giving him a swift punch to the face.

"You'd have been a shit boss, anyway," he surmised, leading with a following punch as another spout of water blew past the deck just beside the two men, Jesse's head whipping toward it in surprise.

Peering through the geyser, he noticed Lena's lifeless body strewn along the deck, Jesse giving Hanzo one final upset look before rising to his feet and leaving the man for his crewmate, leaning down to check Lena's pulse.

"C'mon now, you ain't dead yet," he muttered with a smirk as he felt her neck still pulsating, "If the demons inside all of us ain't killed us yet, the ones outside sure ain't gonna do the job."

He yanked her up and over his shoulders before hurrying to the Hanamura's edge, peering over the side and finally catching a glimpse of the tremendous hole in its side, a gasp of awe leaving him at the sight.

* * *

A nearby stream of water had burst through the deck, knocking Fareeha into the ship from its force, her eyes narrowed in pain as her shoulder ached, having slammed into the ship's iron walls, her teeth gritting angrily as Genji reached a hand to his face, vigorously rubbing the water from his face as he smirked.

"Good thing about always being on father's bad side…" he muttered happily, sticking his water into the hole in the deck, ripping an iron bar out from the ship's interior to use as a weapon, his arm red from the scalding water, "Keeping her hand on the fire as a punishment quits hurting after a while."

Fareeha cursed under her breath as she shoved herself upright as Genji rushed her, though she was unable to keep up. As he yanked his arms downward with the metal pipe in hand, Fareeha could only lift an arm in self-defense, the bar severely smashing into her forearm, causing it to recoil in pain. Genji took another step and give a vicious kick to her gut, sending her stumbling backward and falling onto the deck, sitting up as she scooted away fearfully.

"Come on!" Genji goaded with a smirk, "You gotta wear that mark proudly! I was almost excited to face you! but this is way too easy!"

Fareeha's teeth ached as they squeezed tighter, her feet pushing away furiously as she tried to get a grip on the slick surface, unable to push herself up. Genji merely sauntered along behind her, waving his metal bar around like a baton as he happily meandered toward her.

"You're so feisty, you know. I'd have thought seeing the devil would scare somebody shitless enough that they'd lose so much will," Genji wondered aloud, "I suppose if you'd brand yourself with ink like that, you'd have to have  _some_ will. Tell me, what did he look like? I'm curious."

Fareeha frowned, "You remind me of him an awful lot."

He laughed with amusement, shrugging, "Oh please, I doubt many have treated you as well as I have. At least I have the courtesy to prolong your life; some say it's more kind to make it quick and painless, though I enjoy life- it'd be a shame to see it end so quickly. Even in pain, you've just got to seek the pleasure in life; the dead would pay the highest price to experience pain, just to experience life once again."

Genji pulled a small knife from his coat, fiddling with it in his hand as he continued following Fareeha's scurrying pace, "It has preoccupied me at times, you know. What it must be like to be on such a brink as you are right now. Cowering and fearing for your very life- father seemed as though he might want me dead, but I still never had a doubt that he would truly do me in. My lady and my child, sure, but never his own flesh and blood."

Continuing along the deck, Fareeha's body jerked back in resistance as the rope around her hip immediately went tight, her body having moved to far away from the boom it had been anchored to, leaving her frozen along the deck as Genji stood above her with a smirk.

"End of the line," he observed comedically.

Fareeha immediately threw herself forward, trying to claw her way back to her feet along the wet planks beneath her, though as her body jerked upward, Genji gave her a swift punch, sending her backward until the line caught her, forcing her body to swing in an arch until she slid along the deck, her vision spotty at best.

Genji dropped his metal bar, falling on all fours before anchoring her legs with his own and quickly taking both her wrists, pinning them above her head with a single hand as his other held the knife against the deck to support his weight, staring into her face with a freakish zeal, "I wonder just how pleasurable death can be sometimes. You know, they say once you see the devil, a part of you dies inside. I wonder if that's true for you."

Fareeha's senses returned, her body shaking violently as she realized what predicament she was in, finding her every limb pinned down. Her eyes widened in horror as her assailant's words, though Genji's head merely tilted to the side as though examining a caged animal with enthusiasm.

"I'd very much like to do you a favor and prolong your life just long enough to taste what the devil must surely have taken from you," Genji grinned, "Would you do me the pleasure?"

Fareeha's eyes narrowed heatedly as she sneered back up toward him, "Did you ever ask yourself how I managed to become a captain?"

His eyes glared at her curiously.

"Because I don't take shit from any man," she sputtered angrily, skillfully slipping her leg out from beneath Genji's and immediately impaling her knee into his crotch, sending him howling as his body constricted into itself, forcing him to fall on top of Fareeha, though she was quick to force him off as quickly as possible, disgusted by such contact.

She quickly grabbed the rope she was anchored to and pulled herself up to her feet, eying the knife and bar that sat just out of reach from her entangled situation, her mouth muttering, "Fuck."

Yanking the line to keep it taut, Fareeha rushed along the deck back toward where Angela still lay, her brain still wavering as it rattled along in her concussed state. Spouts of water continued to spurt into the air, leaving Fareeha traveling through an endless stream of water as though it were raining, her eyes running back and forth as she came to Angela, unsure of where to go from here.

"Okay, Fareeha…" she spoke up, "What to do, what to do… I'm not about to swing from this rope like a batshit crazy person; let's see, is there-"

Her body suddenly jerked backward as Genji grabbed ahold of the rope behind her, pulling her back down onto the deck as he shouted angrily, "Get the fuck back here!"

Fareeha's head spun upside down from her back-down position, watching as Genji shoved his knife through her rope and straight into the deck to inhibit her before rising to his feet, rushing toward her. Unable to spin to her stomach and push herself up and catch her footing, Fareeha felt a sharp pain at her cheek, the world around her spinning in a vacuum as her body whirled clear off the ship, her brain swirling as gravity slipped out from beneath her. She caught the ocean in front of her at some point before catching the Hanamura, the sky, the Splitstream, the ocean, the Hanamura, the sky, the Split-

Her midsection nearly tore in half as the rope caught her, a loud gasp escaping her from the pain that spun around her body. She dangled there, her back to the ocean, as her head arose to only catch the silhouette of Genji above her, his darkened arms reaching down to yank up the rope that wrapped around Fareeha, her hand lazily clutched at the rope as though attempting to sever her only remaining tie to that man, though she hadn't a hope to do so.

Genji chuckled happily as he brought Fareeha back up to the deck, tearing the knife from its previous spot along the rope and anchoring it closer to Fareeha so that her body hung a mere foot or so down off the deck, the side of her body rubbing against the cold hull of the ship.

"Poor thing," he grinned, "We're far from done, my love."

Fareeha's face tightened as the pain became too much, her midsection seemingly tearing at its seams as tears flooded her eyes, only her hands along the rope, lazily holding her up, providing any relief. She managed another look above her, only finding Genji having gone airborne as he jumped in the air, lifting his legs and putting all his weight into it as he fell onto Fareeha's midsection, a massively painful cry escaping her as her skin nearly tore.

"GAH!" she cried out from the searing pain, "PLEASE! S-STOP!"

Genji smirked as he stepped back up onto the deck, shrugging, "How do you think I felt a second ago after that little stunt of yours? Please, we've a long way to go before-"

He paused as he leapt into the air once again, his entire weight slamming down into Fareeha, the rope catching the whole force and whipping at her body.

"GAAAH! STO-O-OP!" she cried out helplessly, her body hanging there limp, her blood curdled screams only barely breaking free from the powerful bursts of water that continued tearing at the ship.

Genji smiled, putting a single foot back onto the deck, his breaths heavy from exertion and excitement, "Oh, oh, oh… We're far from finished."

As he leaned forward to grab his knife to pull himself up, his eyes widened as Angela came hurtling toward him, the force from her advance smacking into Genji's face as her arms managed to curl around his neck, her body spinning around him so that she hung from his back, leaving Genji essentially holding two people up while Angela's weight yanked at his throat.

"KCH!" he pleaded, his grip slipping from the knife, "KCH! STCH! STO- STOCH!"

Mustering the last of her strength, Fareeha spun to the side, surrendering the only foothold Genji had left, sending him hanging from the dagger alone, his fingers slipping feverishly as his eyes went wide. Fareeha grabbed Angela's ankle and gave a vicious yank, pulling Genji down and also surrendering his last grip, the man careening down into the ocean as Angela released him, leaving her hanging there from only her ankle in Fareeha's grasp.

Afraid of her voice being covered with a tearful tone, Fareeha still managed a lowly, "You're fucking insane, you know that!"

Angela didn't reply, though Fareeha recognized her waning strength would never be greater than it was at that moment, her arms powerfully yanking at Angela to bring her back up, "You're gonna have to help me, y'know! I can't get us both up!"

With her reeling brain, Angela managed to grab the rope and pull herself up to the deck thanks to Fareeha's waist, barely doing much more than holding the rope as Fareeha spun back onto the deck, gasping rapidly as her body ached lying there, her eyes shut in painful reverie.

"You're…fucking stupid," she muttered weakly as she shook her head.

Angela managed just as breathlessly, "It saved your ass, didn't it?"

"There are some people just not worth saving, Princess," Fareeha muttered in admittance, "I'm not even a crewman. I'm just a- just a stowaway."

Angela smiled at her choice of words, shaking her head, "You saved more than my life."

Panting breathily, Fareeha shook her head, though offered nothing more in the way of words. Angela's hands ad been cluthing her head, though she stared down the deck of the Hanamura, noticing its unmistakable slant as it began to sink, ultimately rolling back away from the Splitstream, Angela turning back toward Fareeha with a cautious voice.

"Any ideas on how to get outta here?" she asked, "This ship's not gonna last long, just so you know."

Fareeha began pushing her body to the side, hoping to push herself up from her stomach, "So helpless, you are… You're the queen of stupid ideas; I figured you'd have one."

Angela grinned, "I'm only learning from the master, you know."

"Oh, shut up," Fareeha managed weakly as Angela helped her to her feet, turning her head up as she kicked the knife from its place restricting her movement, "Okay, so we're gonna swing our broken bodies over back onto your ship, alright? Hopefully we'll make it or whatever; I'd rather be in the ocean than this powder keg."

"Powder keg?" Angela asked.

Fareeha rolled her eyes, "Helpless. The Hanamura is famous for its steam engines- like, all those geysers spurting out? If the wrong engine builds up enough pressure, this whole ship's going skyward."

"What?!" Angela cried out worriedly, "T-Then why are we still-?!"

"Because you chose to do so," Fareeha groaned, "Forget all that; let's just get off while we can. Come here."

Angela watched her warily, though Fareeha immediately waved her into her body, "Well?! C'mon! There's one rope and two of us; you wanna go ass-to-face instead? Geez!"

Praying that any blushing might be misinterpreted or hidden by the severity of their situation, Angela took a step toward her, taking in a sharp breath as Fareeha's powerful arm came around her waist, pulling their bodies together as Angela stared blankly into the wide chest before her.

"Hold on to me," Fareeha instructed, unable to feel Angela's arms around her as she stepped up onto a nearby crate, "Please tell me you've got me."

Angela threw her inhibitions into the wind as she gingerly pressed her face into a Fareeha's chest, fearful of what was to come, shutting her eyes as tightly as her arms locked to one another around Fareeha's back. The tanned seadog eyed the Splitstream below, figuring out the trajectory of her upcoming swing as she felt Angela's tight grasp, leaving one less thing for her to worry about. Figuring the best course of action, she shut her eyes, taking in deep breaths as her fatigued body bit back against her plans.

"Come on, Fareeha," she muttered silently in her head, "You got this. You're more than that necklace; you're not unlucky."

As a nearby gust of water spouted into the air, it gave Fareeha the push she needed to give a generous burst of strength from her legs, Angela's gut immediately becoming weightless, nausea welling up as her body careened through the air, wind lapping at her hair and her ears as her face pressed even harder against Fareeha's chest, terrified of whatever was happening around her. She still felt the anchor of the rope supporting them, though that sensation severed itself, leaving Angela in a near panic, though in a split second, a massive  _BAM_ hit her through Fareeha's body, solid footing assured though she remained at a furious speed, though it subsided quickly enough as she came to a stop, Fareeha's arm slipped from her back, Angela's rapid breaths unable to hold a candle to how furious Fareeha's lungs were working as the former captain lay there, wide eyes peering up into the sky, unable to truly recognize what she'd just done.

"Angela!" Jack cried out, his boots almost tearing into the deck as he sprinted wildly toward his daughter, "Angela!"

Between her aching head, her powerless body, and her insides churning from the last few seconds, Angela couldn't do much beyond simply sliding off from Fareeha's body an onto the Splitstream, allowing her father to slide to her side on his knees, lifting her up to examine her with a father's zeal, terrified that she might be injured. He only gave Fareeha cursory glances as he reached out to poke at Angela's arms and legs as if examining her reflexes.

"That tickles," she murmured slightly, earning a relieved gasp from her father.

He sighed weakly, "Fuck, Angela, I- Just- Fuck, just give me a hug."

"Langua-" she began, her mouth covered by her father's shoulder as he embraced her tightly.

He shook his head, his smile hidden in a mass of his daughter's wet hair, "I don't give a damn this moment, child."

After a lengthy embrace, Jack pulled away, grasping his daughter around her knees and neck, lifting her up as he turned back toward the Hanamura, which was tilting further away, more resembling a pin cushion from the mass of water spouts leaving its interior. He walked toward Jesse and Hana, the two having already taken Lucio and Lena to their bunks, the three of them watching helplessly as Junkrat's fate seemed further assured.

"I don't know what the fuck he did, but I couldn't find him anywhere down in the gun deck," Hana frowned.

Jesse's eyes narrowed, "He'd have'ta tear a hold 'r somethin' to blast a hole that big. Think he might'a done himself in? He might still be over there clingin' ta more than his life."

A serious face etched upon his head, Jack shut his eyes reverently, "We'll give it a few more minutes. If nothing else happens, we'll-"

Therein, a sickly groaning came roaring out from inside the Hanamura, the sound of metal being expanded against its original intent as hot water boiled within its hull, its vapors building and building until-

_BOOM_

The Hanamura tore in half as its mighty steam engines blew up in a glorious blaze of vaporous water having torn the ship from its seams, ejecting an ungodly amount of material into the stratosphere which, thankfully, didn't seem fated to fall upon the Splitstream. Hana whimpered as she looked on, covering her mouth with an open palm, lowering her head in reverence as Jesse crossed his arms, shaking his head distastefully.

"Poor guy," he muttered quietly, "I always did feel bad 'bout turnin' him in for that koala he brought on with him, but… Well, y'know."

Jack frowned, lowering his head as well, "Junkrat… That wasn't his name, right."

He sighed deeply, shaking off his tears from Angela's return, "Jamison Fawkes. It was an honor to have you aboard. Never before have I encountered somebody so willing to give their life to-… You guys hear that?"

The three of them looked back up, Hana and Jesse sharing a confused glance toward one another as a high-pitched, far off noise did catch their ear. They turned in opposite directions, curiously, as the sound pierce the air around them.

"aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAH!"

With a mighty  _SMASH_ Junkrat flew into the deck of the Splitstream, head-first, his nose jutting back into his face as he slid right into the railing off the edge of the boat, his head meeting a violent jolt as his legs dangled off the ship's edge above.

"JUNKIE!" Hana shouted exuberantly, though she just as quickly composed herself, clearing her throat, "Ahem, uh, Jamison. Welcome back."

"Aww! C-Cap!" he whined, correcting his body, sitting against the ship's edge, "You told 'em?!"

Jack shrugged with a smile, "Must'a slipped my mind. Sorry."

"Blast it!" Junkrat exclaimed, "There goes my cool motif… How'm I gonna strike fear into the crew with my armaments now?!"

Approaching the gunner, Jesse frowned, "Oh, is  _that_ what you call wakin' people up by pokin' a gun in their face?"

Junkrat laughed nervously, "N-No! Of course not! Heh heh!"

Unamused, Jesse eyed Junrat cautiously as he pulled him to his feet, helping him back toward the ship's interior, leaving Captain Morrison to follow along with Angela in his arms, cautiously taking her to her bunk, only stopping as Hana spoke up with a furtive voice, her arms crossed dismissively with eyes shifting toward her captain.

"Uh, sir…" she muttered, jerking a shoulder in Fareeha's direction, "What do we do about her?"

The rest of the crew paused, turning to watch as Fareeha's lungs were still working overtime, her body gradually tensing up in a sore sort of convulsion, her ability to speak already stripped from her due to her sheer exhaustion. Jack eyed her seriously, biting his lip as he felt Angela's body tense up in her arms.

"Take her to the hold," he instructed, even Hana peering up to him in surprise.

"W-What?" she asked, waveringly.

Jack nodded, "You heard me. Jesse, he can walk; come help Hana get her down to the hold."

Even Jesse's face mulled over as he released Junkrat, sauntering over to help Hana lift Fareeha' still body up, the stowaway cringing painfully as her soreness settled in further, aching at the added movement. Her head fell forward weakly, her inability to move forcing Jesse to move the three of them for the most part, leaving Jack supervising with his daughter in his arms, his gaze lowering as the stowaway approached.

Just before the three of them passed, Jack took a deliberate step to cut them off, staring at Fareeha's fallen head critically. Jesse and Hana both watched their captain with shocked glances, unsure of what he was to do, Hana's spine tingling as Captain Morrison spoke up.

"Can you lift your head?"

Fareeha audibly groaned as the wet hair that fell around her head shifted to make room for her face as it lifted itself just high enough for her eyes to peer up toward him.

"Your crate," he spoke up, "It said 'Far Away' on it. We're headed to Southeast Asia. Is that far enough away?"

Afraid to nod, lest she lose her strength to return, Fareeha simply shook her eyes up and down, her body shaking from the strain, tears welling up in her eyes as Jesse and Hana kept deliberate hold of her quaking shoulders.

"How's about we forget about turning you in once we get to Hawaii," Jack spoke up, "You stay in the hold, we'll take you where you need to go. Sound good?"

Her pain echoing through her body, Fareeha nodded her head before her knees gave way, nearly pulling Hana to the ground before Jesse could catch Fareeha's weight, now electing to carry her over his shoulder with Hana helping to push her body up onto him. Jack nodded, keeping an eye on Fareeha's downturned head over Jesse's shoulder.

"Good," he surmised.


	25. Reawakening

The sound of the most distant Bell was the first thing to catch Angela's senses as her closed eyes began to wiggle around, her deep sleep coming to an end with her eyes opening gingerly, the cracks of sunlight entering the crew's quarters taking her eyes by surprise in their mild intensity. She felt as though she'd been asleep for twelve hours by how rested she felt, though just as she awoke enough to think along those lines, an ache crossed along her cranium, forcing a seething gasp to escape her as she turned her head away from the sunlight to escape its brightness.

She knew she was in her bunk, tucked in beneath thick sheets, though she couldn't much recall how she'd gotten there, remembering only slamming into the Splitstream within the arms of Fareeha, after that everything turning to a blursome endeavor that only pained her head further, forcing her to relinquish her curiosity, simply staring at the burnt brown wood that ran along the inside of her bunk, welcoming the dark happily enough.

As she snuggled up deeper within her warm little hovel, the sound of boots began to echo behind her, Angela's head lifting up ever so slightly to peer back over her shoulder, her eyes catching her father's as he stood there with a smile, grasping a platter in his hands, his voice as soft and warm as the space beneath Angela's blankets.

"Hey kiddo," he spoke softly, placing the platter down beside him before taking a step toward Angela's bunk, "How're you feeling?"

She groaned, "Head hurts."

"I would think so," Jack grinned, "Doctor said you'd suffeeed a mild concussion. Said to leave you in bed for a few weeks and gave us a bit of medicine for the pain."

Angela asked quietly, "Doctor?"

Her father chuckled mutely behind closed lips as he turned to sit beside her bunk, pulling the platter of food closer as he began cutting up the assortment of steak, potatoes, and vegetables into bite-sized pieces, "We arrived in Hawaii three days ago. We've been in port since, getting repairs, taking a break. I sent out letters to all our clients explaining what happened; they should be more than understanding, especially since all of their cargo remains safe. They've all been good to me in the past, so they won't mind too much."

As though taking in the information relating to her missing, at the very least, three entire days, Angela stared off into space as her father took a bite of his food, nodding approvingly, "I've brought you meals whenever appropriate. You'd wake up for a few moments time and take a bite and some drink, but never for too long. I didn't mind- more for me, huh?"

He chuckled at his own joke, his warm tone vibrating through the air and relieving Angela of some of her worrying. She couldn't remember having ever awakening, much less having eaten, and was terrified of what else she might have done while in her distant state, her father seeming to catch her worry as he spoke up, "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just- Wow, three days?"

Her father shrugged, "Not counting the two weeks getting to Hawaii. You must have had quite some nap, but the doctor said you needed it. I've just been keeping you comfortable- well, the whole crew's been terribly worried about you. They're all pretty worse for wear, but a few days ashore should help reorient them all. Lena's cheek was like a bulb for a few days, Junkrat's sporting red-streaked skin, though he says he doesn't even feel it above all the callouses. Lucio was in pretty much the same boat as you, but he's back on his feet. Hana-"

As though the name shot an electric current along a singular synapse that hadn't fired since she'd fallen asleep, Angela's memory burst with reckless abandon, a searing pain rushing along the outside of her skull as she spoke up, "W-Where's Fareeha?!"

"Faree-? Oh, the stowaway," Jack answered blankly, causing Angela more panic.

"Y-You didn't-?!" she sputtered worriedly, though her father just as quickly leaned over to gently return her shoulders to her bunk.

"Shh, shh; calm down, okay?" he answered quietly, reaching a hand up and sending the side of his hand in a careful brush across her forehead to wipe away her hair that had gone wild in her movement, "She's down in the hold. She was out as well, so we had to feign possession of her on the crew so the doctor could check her out. No, we didn't turn her in."

Angela sighed in relief, her eyes shutting as she muttered quietly, "Thank goodness…"

As she lay there with closed eyes, Captain Morrison's lips trembled as he thought of his next words, unsure as to whether or not this moment was the correct time to explain them. He gave a deep, silent breath through his nose as he turned away, lowering his head in thought, leaving Angela slightly perturbed by his silence.

She turned her head toward him, watching him listlessly as she asked quietly, "What's wrong..?"

Jack sighed, "I could never thank that woman enough for saving my daughter's life; that's why we agreed not to turn her in upon arriving here. We're keeping her in the hold still, but we're taking her as far as we're headed, as per the original agreement upon her crate back in San Francisco."

"Okay," Angela nodded, her brow still curled worriedly, "Why do I feel a 'but' coming along?"

Her father frowned, still avoiding his daughter's stare, "I don't- I have no problem with you seeing her and offering your thanks, but… I still don't want you seeing her."

"What?" Angela questioned quietly.

He went on gravely, "I know what happened on the Hanamura, you know- Whatever happened- Look, everybody's got their own dark pasts, right? There's plenty of my past that you haven't a clue of, I'm sure you've got stuff I don't know. We all learned something terrible about Lena around dinner a few weeks ago. Whatever that woman has going on, whatever enticed her to flee from the States in such a desperate method- Whatever you two experienced aboard the Hanamura, I don't want you getting swept up her problems, understand?"

"No, I don't," Angela retorted with a frown, "She's a good person; why else would she-?"

"We're all good people," Jack interrupted coolly, turning to his daughter, "When we want to be. When we need passage aboard a captain's ship, we rescue his daughter."

Angela felt an upset swelling up within her, though it quickly faded beneath her exhausted exterior, allowing her father to continue, "She used to captain ships across the Mediterranean. She knows how the game is played. The last thing I want, or need, is for her to be using my daughter as a bargaining chip or- Whatever. I'll take you down there when you're able to walk and let you give your thanks, but beyond that-"

"Is she awake?" Angela asked.

Jack wondered for a moment, "I believe so; Hana checked on her about an hour ago."

Angela immediately moved her arms to the side, pushing herself toward the edge of her bunk, much to her father's chagrin, "Well, no reason to wait for thanks. Might as well make it soon, if only to, all the sooner, quell the evil intentions that exist only in your mind."

The captain drolly rolled his eyes as Angela made little, if any, progress on her own, gently reaching over and tucking her in tighter, making any movement from her relatively impossible given her weakened state, his voice escaping lightly, "Y'know how many people whose bacon I've saved because I was thinking in foresight? You should ask Lena next time you see her; she used to wear different colored socks before I pointed out that some ports view such things as punishable by death."

"Really?" Angela wondered, her ambivalence quickly becoming curiosity by the outrageousness of her father's words.

He shrugged with a smile, "I don't know, but maybe one of these days we'll come across such a port. Then who'll be the thoughtful one, huh?"

Angela frowned, though that didn't prevent her father from leaning into her bunk to half-hug her while gently kissing her forehead, Angela's arms lazily reaching up to hug around his neck as he did so.

"She's a good person, father," she uttered quietly beneath her breath.

He didn't reply, simply finishing his hug before straightening up, "Get some more rest. Food's right here if you need it. I've already told the crew we're not leaving until you're able to see the island, but no pressure or anything; I want  _all_ my crewmen tip-top by the time we leave. The second part of our journey is far more vast."

He made his way down the line of bunks, stopping only as his daughter's distant voice caught his ear, "I love you."

Smiling, Jack nodded, turning gradually to offer to his daughter, "Love you too. Now get some rest."

The aching in her head telling her it was true, Angela nodded in acceptance before closing her eyes, hoping that sleep would come easily, rather than the images in her mind of a stowaway whose face was all she could see behind her darkened eyes.

* * *

 A sudden bustle awoke Angela next, a cacophony of footsteps barreling down the few stairs that led into the crew's quarters followed by rather incessant voices, which Angela understood rather quickly to be her crewmates, returning from shore judging from their conversation.

Lena's voice obviously took the fore, the third mate happily shouting out in exuberance, "-and with those shells I found? Man, I had one hell of a paella! You got the- Oh! Shh, shh! Captain said not ta' wake hr up."

"I'll be quiet about it," Lucio spoke quietly, "Just Wait here and I'll sneak over to my bunk, okay?"

Junkrat's voice came next, goading the others on quietly, "Well hurry! The bonfire ain't gonna wait forever! I wanna see these snap ties you keep mutterin' about!"

"Shh!" Lena silenced him as Lucio crept to his bunk, which was past Angela's, the waking crewman's senses quivering as she listened for his footsteps to pass by her bunk.

As Lucio shucked along, Angela cracked a grin, battling the need to giggle as she waited for just a few more moments, until she caught the unmistakeable sound of his boot clomping beside her bunk. In a split second, her hand shot free from her blanket, taking a massive grasp of Lucio's arm as his body nearly flew through the ceiling in shock.

"EEK!" he cried, yanking away his body in reactionary terror, leaving Angela laughing as the others joined in at the entryway, leaving the chef unamused, "Th-That ain't funny, you know?!"

Angela replied lightly, "I think you've been outvoted!"

With a pithy glare, Lucio turned to the others, Junkrat nearly curled up on the ground in laughter while Lena held her boisterous self up against the frame of the door, shaking her head, "C'mon, Lu; it was pretty great!"

"Pretty great?!" Lucio fires back angrily, "My snap ties were pretty great too. Unfortunate that I don't exactly feel like showcasing them anymore."

At that, Junkrat hurriedly corrected himself, returning to his feet and wiping away his joyful tears, trying to gain his chef's favor once again as Angela questioned, "What are snap ties, anyway?"

"They were little tied up pouches of gunpowder that you throw at the ground and they pop, or toss 'em in a fire and they crackle like fireworks; but seeing as how amusing I myself am, I do believe their usefulness has diminished!"

Angela gave a sincere smile, "Sorry, Lucio. It's just been a while. I might have been asleep and all, but I still feel as though I've missed you guys."

"Well…" Lucio sighed, "When you put it like that…"

Lena clasped her hands expectantly as Lucio continued to his bunk, pulling out a small bag from his duffel bag and returning to Angela, "My kids love these things, so seeing as how Lena and Junkrat are very much just children in adult bodies, I figured they'd get a kick out of 'em at the bonfire tonight."

"Bonfire?" Angela wondered aloud.

"Oh, Angela, Hawaii is paradise!" Lena acknowledged happily, rushing to Angela's side to show off the lei around her neck, "They wear flowers and relax on tan beaches! They must not have a care in the world! I'll die if you don't get a chance to see it all! The water is so crisp; the Thames, you can't tell a boot from a bog roll in there!"

Junkrat cringed, "A bog roll? Ain't that tha same as a bikkie?"

"Hmm," Lena thought mutedly, "Don't you mean an aubergine?"

He flinched, "No! I was thinkin' you were sayin' somethin' like a bikkie 'n a sanger, ya know?"

"Aaanyway," Angela interrupted, her head only spinning further, enswirled by the endless British-Aussie slang going around, "Don't worry about me. Father already said we weren't leaving until I-"

"I knoooow," Lena whispered quietly, sidling down into a crouch as she slid her head onto Angela's bunk, eyeing her seriously, "If you took so long to recover, y'know…"

Angela rolled her eyes, "I want to see Hawaii too,  _you_ know? I'm not gonna be some boat biddie forever."

She heard a snicker from Junkrat and Lucio, the former speaking in a hushed laugh, "Boat biddie! What a set a' words!"

Lena frowned, jumping to her feet and turning to complain to Lucio with a whimpery voice, "Luuuu!"

Shrugging, he only replied, "Hey, don't pull rank on me, I'm just the chef. Speaking of, they've got that boar on a spit; we'd better head out if we want it fresh."

"Spit?!" Angela cried out in horror.

Lena assured her, "Don't worry; that's just the thing they roast stuff on. We'll bring ya back some, how 'bout that? Assuming Junkrat doesn't eat it all on the way back."

"Hey!" he shouted, taking offense, "I'm a respectable enough man; I'd never take advantage of a tucker-bag like that!"

Lucio narrowed his eyes, "What'd'ya call her..?"

"Come on!" Lena shouted, rushing toward the entryway, "We're gonna be late! Bye Angela! Get be-"

She trailed off as she coursed through the ship, leaving Junkrat and Lucio to say their goodbyes before leaving themselves, Angela assuring them she was fine and in need of rest anyway. Still, she let out a sigh as she became alone once again, closing her eyes in an attempt at keeping herself from noticing the lack of activity around her. Her headaches were subsiding, at least, and she longed to stretch out her legs once again, their disuse becoming apparent in how tight and jittery they were becoming.

Her lips jerked to the side in thought, a mischievous look escaping her eyes as they lowered toward the entryway, wondering just how empty the ship was at this point. Her father  _had_ said she was allowed one visit to Fareeha to offer her thanks for what she'd done…

Thinking of Fareeha, her mind churned, trying to conjure up a clearer picture of the woman in her head than what she had available, as though the last nearly three weeks had faded the memory she'd so carefully etched within its recesses. Her tanned skin, surrounding her face, her jet-black hair matted against her forehead in their wet surroundings, her fierce look only serving to whet Angela's faded appetite, if only it weren't so distant now.

As she thought, her legs began to groan in their aching, her nerves twitching at the lack of activity, restlessly running up and down her legs, catching Angela's attention before she could reconstruct the memory she so very desperately craved. She frowned as she untucked herself, twisting her body to remove the sheets from beneath her and allowing her legs room to maneuver, which they did, only slightly at first; their first activity in a couple weeks led to immediate pins and needles as they awoke, warming up to a lively scorch as her blood began to churn through her body, her feet nearly burning at the sensation, though on the whole, it was an enjoyable moment of reacquaintance with her limbs.

She sighed, wondering whether or not to try and stand up, wanting to at least catch a glimpse of the wayward, Pacific island that sat so incredibly remote. She figured it might be more trouble to take to it so quickly, her lips pulling to the side as she pulled her blankets back over her body, deciding to sleep a bit longer, allowing her legs to reorient themselves with the waking world as well.

Beginning to wander within her headspace, she couldn't get Fareeha off of her mind; despite her visions being aged and faded, she still remembered quite a bit from their time upon the Hanamura, particularly their final moments. Apparently, their heart-pounding escape came to her easiest, the tightness surrounding her body in the form of Fareeha's arm around her waist being particularly vibrant. She longed to be taken into her arms once again. Into that wide chest, her thick shirt hiding still-inevitable softness that had nearly burned Angela's face as Fareeha's warmth steamed the water along her face.

A breathless gasp escaped Angela's lips as she opened her eyes slightly, her revived blood flow seeming to have implications toward Angela reacquainting herself with yet another part of her body. She slowly closed her eyes once more, losing herself in the memory about as quickly as her fingers lost themselves between her legs, caressing her breeches first in a gentle massage, then in a course sort of stroking, her breathes hollowing, shaking tenderly as her nerves began taking hold of her gut, firing in electric delight as her fingers jutted into her breeches, just barely taking a hold of the wetness within.

Unsatisfactorily, Angela's eyes peered back open into the ceiling above, her hand trailing ever so slowly up toward the hem of her breeches, seeking more direct pleasure, though at that moment, in her mirage of a memory, she couldn't exactly catch the face of that woman, a fact most troubling. Those piercing eyes, she thought, taking her soul as tightly as that woman's arms took her body. Her hand pulled away, her eyes shifting toward the entryway.

She knew. She  _had_ to see her.


	26. Unrequited Thanks

Angela pulled herself to the edge of her bunk, requiring extra effort to bring her legs off along with her after their nerves had gone so long without use, though it felt nice to feel the stretch as they dangled off the bunk. She looked around, hoping to not be heard were she to collapse, not wanting the sympathy, and pushed herself to slide off the small bed, keeping her backside against its edge to simply put enough weight on her legs to test them.

They seemed to be holding, and the pressure felt rather nice, her arms pushing her up further up onto her legs, the sudden rush of blood rushing down her body and warming her feet to a nearly scorching pitch before she took a slow step, making sure to keep her hand along the wall of bunks, grasping any of the wooden edges that held the mattresses in place as she meandered along cautiously, finding her legs to be rather welcoming to the activity.

She cautiously advanced, relieved to find the railing to the stairwell as she slowly took her time with each step, a far cry from, apparently, weeks earlier when she was dashing up the same steps. After what seemed like an hour, she made it far enough to peek around the corner that turned into the entryway of the hold, Angela's eyes squinting in frustration as she noticed Hana sitting between the threshold, her arms crossed with her head nodded off, slinking down between her shoulders, leaving Angela in a bind.

Instead of continuing, she turned back, taking the stairs upward to the gun deck which sat directly above the hold, another hour seemingly passing as her pace lessened going up rather than down. She huffed both in exhaustion as well as in frustration at her own body's inability, her frustration only growing from the spot within her a moment ago. She felt a sense of loss at her being unable to recall the face of the woman who'd saved her, and a pang of guilt ran through her as well. The last thing she wanted was to see her in thanks and act at all strange to the one who'd risked their life for hers.

Angela crouched down, falling onto all-fours as she bent low, peering through the minute cracks in the slats of wooden panels beneath her, catching the lantern that Hana had taken with her to keep company. With the hold aflicker, Angela could see through that slots between the wood, crawling along until she found Fareeha, sitting where she'd been before, her legs splayed out as she sat there, one brought up for what seemed like a free hand to rest upon her knee.

Angela bit her lip, the sight of Fareeha's body that shone so warmly behind the orange of the lantern's flame, her tanned skin so toasted, causing a pang of tension to sprout beneath her stomach, her body craving to be straddling that woman's, tasting every part of her in that forbidden span of time. She slowly crawled over toward the wall, spinning to sit there with her back against the ship, sliding down and spreading her legs to expose herself to her fingers, her breaths growing hollow at the thought of Fareeha's arms surrounding her, taking her into the air, taking her wholly. Taking her into a bed, taking her beyond her lips, taking-

"Ah," she shuddered quietly, her fingers already pressing against her breeches, chills swirling along her spine, her imagination so vivid that Fareeha might as well have been at her side right then and there.

She bent over, eyes constricting to peer between the floor, having to stretch to see Fareeha, who was right below her, Angela's eyes struggling to remain open as the tense feeling above her thighs began to strain, her fingers unable to do much else through her clothing. With her eyes kept focused on her stowaway, Angela lifted herself up slightly to pull her breeches down her legs, keeping her legs constricted at her knee, her eyes forced to clench shut in a single instant as her two fingers ran along her lips.

"Mmm!" she whimpered, terrified of making too much noise.

She lifted her other hand, covering her mouth with an open palm, covering moist breaths as she continued noises so sultry, worked up in an infinite swirl from her fingers that caressed the swollen bud between her legs, tears welling up from the sheer pleasure she'd gone without for weeks now, covering her eyes about as quickly as her underwear was being drenched by her honey, her fingers sliding the thin fabric to the side before slithering inside of her, a prolonged, stifling moan wetting her palm.

How might Fareeha do this, she wondered; how might she take Angela? Would it be slow, driving her into a frenzy as her skin roiled upon pins and needles, begging for more? or would Fareeha's pleasure be unable to contain itself? leaving the woman in a frenzy to use Angela's body in a desperate frenzy of depraved activity. The thoughts swirled in her mind, her eyes closed as her fingers worked in and out of her, quicker and quicker, her breathing growing lighter as her chest began to constrict, her feet sliding up into her backside as her shoulders heaved against the wall, lifting her crotch high as her mind flushed with ecstasy, her fingers frozen in place within her as her insides tightened, almost enough to keep her fingers there permanently.

As her mind recovered from the throes of orgasm, Angela's breath sputtered in a shaking fashion, her body sliding back down into her original position as her lungs chortled in quickened spurts, whatever headache that might have been ailing her far too unable to affect her at this moment. She thought of snuggling beside Fareeha, though she most certainly would be against such things. Angela grinned, thinking of having to keep herself attached to her, leaving her arms right around her to keep her nearby, her stowaway resisting every natural impulse of hers if only to stay by her side.

Lost in her own afterglow, slightly lonely after such an undertaking by herself, her heart was enkindled by the mere possibility of sharing it with somebody sitting just a single floor beneath her.

* * *

A few more days passed with Angela forced into servitude of her bed, though after a few nights trouncing about while the others slept, save for one night where Lena happened upon her and aided in her endeavors, she was quite able to win over her father's worry, making her way around with only a few trembling steps out of a hundred or so.

"Okay," Jack nodded regretfully, shrugging as he continued, "But I'm keeping you in a tight leash, alright? No heavy lifting, no running along the deck, no-"

"Father!" Angela assured hastily, "I've got it, okay? I'll be fine."

Sighing, Jack replied, "I know… Sorry. It's the father in me, you know."

"I know, but you wouldn't be so doting on any other crewman," Angela acknowledge with a grin, though it gradually faded at the sight of his straight face, "Would you?"

The captain chuckled, "A man's only as good as the people he surrounds himself with. I take all your health seriously. Maybe if you hadn't been the last to awaken, you'd have caught me bringing Lucio some stationary to write to his family, proofreading it even, or you'd have seen me bringing the same stationary for Lena to doodle on or whatever while they recovered. She went to great lengths to explain to us that she'd drawn a dog, not a cow."

He shrugged easily, "I think you'd find that most of what I put onto you is no different from the others. Though, I'd say being a father is a far greater responsibility than being one's boss."

"Geez, father, you don't have to say it like that," Angela frowned, pushing herself up to her feet, barely a wobbly to be seen.

As she kept straight, her lips widened into a bright smile, jumping up toward her father to show off her beaming face, "See?!"

"I do," Jack chuckled, amused at how warm his heart became at such a simplistic sight, "Now don't overexert yourself now."

Still wearing her smile, Angela's face darkened in suspicion as she cocked an eyebrow, "You're not gonna be at my side for forever now just to make sure I don't take a tumble, are you?"

"Dear, I had to watch you learn to walk as a toddler," Jack shook his head, "If I'd had such desires, I'd have started then. I just want to make sure you're in tip-top shape before rushing around the deck and all."

As though expecting her actions to speak louder than any words, Angela began stepping forward, her father following at her side just to examine her gait for any signs of falling over, "You know, when you were learning to walk- Your mother and I sat across from one another, and we'd hold you up and push you along toward the other parent to get you to walk. She insisted I hold you up first- I think she realized, even then, what you've probably come to understand so well."

He chuckled at the thought, "I was so scared to let you go. I didn't want you to fall, and yet, even at just under a year old, you were proving to me that my fears were so vastly unfounded beneath the weight of your determination. or maybe it was your stubbornness, at least later on."

"Gee, thanks," Angela replied teasingly, "I prefer the term 'independent', but okay, choose the negative one."

Her father grinned, helping her out the door before Angela turned up the stairs to go up toward the deck, going along, "For what it's worth, I have no intention of fall-"

She realized her father was no longer at her side, carefully turning around to find him on the next step down, stopped to wait for her as he was aiming for the hold beneath the ship, Angela staring at him confused, "W- I thought we were going out to see Hawaii..?"

"We can if you want, but the polite thing would be to go give your thanks to our stowaway first thing," Jack shrugged.

Almost worriedly, Angela dipped her head in thought, slightly concerned of the timing. She knew this would be the only truly sanctioned visit that she'd get, not sure if now would be the best time; though how would it be any different than any other occasion? especially in explaining her way out of something her father was so obviously pushing her toward doing.

"O-Okay," she managed quietly, working her way back down the step before following her father further down the ship into the hold.

He mustn't have noticed anything wrong as he went on his own, speaking, "They've finished up the Splitstream's repairs. We're about ready to head on out as soon as you've been out and everybody's ready to continue. I can't imagine this next leg will be any more dramatic than the last- it's been a couple decades since I've been under attack. Well, attacked out at sea, I'll say."

They walked along the stairs, entering the gun hold before strolling on toward the stern end of the ship where the hold sat, the orange sunlight of dusk peering out through the windows of the hold, giving the silver cannons a glean full of luster as the two of them walked, Jack's steps unintentionally slowing as he spoke up more meaningfully than before.

"You know, I meant what I said before," he spoke with the glint of a cold tone.

Angela looked up at him, her despondent face now wearing something of confusion as he turned back toward her, "About never being able to thank her enough for what she did. I know you're on this thing about me being a different person and-"

He paused with a smile as Angela's eyes shot wide, "Hana told me. Probably shouldn't tell things to a  _communications_ officer and not expect it to get back to me. I just wanted you to know, my first instinct was  _not_ to put her back in the hold, tied up. Like I said, she just as easily could have saved you in order to take advantage of me. Getting her somewhere she needed to go- I'm merely playing the same game she is."

"W-Why-?"

"I just don't want you thinking I'm some monster," he shrugged, "We saved her life as a stowaway, she saved yours; we're far too square to simply allow her free reign to do whatever she wants on this ship, understand? I'm in no position to take chances."

Angela's eyes narrowed, "So, what, you-"

"I gave her a hand," he interrupted, simply, "Literally. We only have her one hand cuffed, so she can get her food, or drink, whenever she wants. She brought some books with her, she can read now, whatever she wants to do."

Turning slightly sour, Angela corrected, "You mean you made it so she doesn't have to be checked up on."

Jack raised his hands, running them down his face in exasperation, "See? This is why I wanted this discussion  _now_. You're like family to this crew now; they love you. Even Hana feels slightly guilty about her previous views of that woman after what she did for you. I don't- There was a guy, back before the Splitstream, one of our hired hands came aboard and after a month or so, he went nuts, so we had him holed up as well. He was rambling on and on, basically crazy, but we weren't murderers- we figured we'd just subdue him and bring him back home with us after the trip. One of our crewman, Gerry, a young seapup, was put in charge of watching over him; eventually, after a long enough time, they became friends, Gerry released the hand, and the first thing he did was kill the man who freed him before nearly killing the entire crew."

His lips turned distastefully, "The last thing I need is that happening to my crew, much less  _you_. Your mother would kill me if she knew I, the  _careful_  one, allowed such a stupid thing to happen. So we're going to keep her down here, you'll say your peace, and we won't speak of this again, understand?"

More so than that, Angela understood her father's tone quite well. It was a mild return to the same one that led to his outburst in his quarters before, a place Angela didn't want to return to. Despite Hana's telling on her, her father didn't seem aware of the result of the discussion she'd had with Hana, a bond of saltwater taffy apparently far stronger than the one between mere crewmen. Were it the case, she hadn't a problem continuing her sneaking ways if it were necessary…

Her heart trembled as she spoke up, "I understand."

"Alright," Jack sighed, as if expecting a battle, turning back where they were headed, waving his daughter along, "There's a luau going on tonight, in a couple hours judging by the sunlight. I'm sure the whole crew would enjoy taking you alo- well, maybe not Junkrat; he seems to dislike sharing when firework-like stuff is involved. The others, though, definitely. I'd enjoy it too, you know; it's never good to treat family like associates."

"I suppose," Angela muttered quietly, the two making their way from the gun deck onto the stairway that led into the hold, leaving Angela to observe the absence of any 'guards' at its entrance.

Jack went on as they descended toward the hold, "She still has some bandages on her, so don't freak out. We had to feign her crewmanship to get a local doctor to see her, but all those considered, she wasn't too bad. A broken rib or two, but nothing a little rest wouldn't fix. She's seemed content enough with the new arrangement when I've come to check on her."

Angela felt a twist within her chest as she stepped far enough down the stairs, leaving her eyes just unobstructed by the top of the doorway, catching a glimpse of Fareeha overtop a collection of crates that sat between her and the entryway. Her mouth went dry, suddenly realizing she was about to meet with her again, a nervous assortment of butterflies welling up within her in time with a queasiness that lapped at her stomach. She suddenly wanted to stop, turn, and walk away, but not only would that deprive her of Fareeha's magnificent presence, it might also lead her father onto something being up. Either way, she knew she was stuck, even as the tension in her mind began to charge.

Jack allowed her entry first, following along behind as the two of them rounded the crates in the center of the room, Angela's heart jumping at the sight of Fareeha, her left leg crossed toward her as a book sat there, her hand lazily sat between this page and the last, while her other leg remain outstretched in time with her arm, which hung above her head in a lifeless display. Her tan face quickly rose just a bit, her eyes jumping toward the two newcomers before returning to her book, silently going along without much more in the way of acknowledgement of the two visitors.

As if to extricate himself from the awkward silence that was building, Jack took a step back, leaving Angela front and center, a lump swelling in her throat as she stood there, her insides trembling from the mounting pressure. Fareeha's shoulder was exposed as she wore her loose sleeve down along her arm, a great many bounds of tape covering her shoulder atop the large assortment of bandages that wound up her skin, the sight working up a guilty conscience within Angela as well.

"You know, I don't exactly enjoy being stared at," Fareeha finally spoke up, breaking Angela from her spell, though it was her father that replied first.

He cleared his throat, "Sorry. My daughter had some words for you, or so I thought."

Having the onus placed upon her, Angela worked up her nerve as Fareeha's eyes lifted just enough to peer up toward her, "I, uh… Thank you. for saving me."

Fareeha shrugged, "No big deal."

"I mean, it is," Angela retorted, suddenly, "You meant no harm to us. You merely wanted to be left alone, yet we had you tied up like a criminal after nearly killing you for such treacherous acts as keeping to yourself down here."

Fareeha noticed Captain Morrison's face become stony at his daughter's words, the stowaway offering simply, as though to him, "I knew the laws when I decided to do this. You know I was once a captain; I have nobody to blame but myself."

She went back to her book, "Still, I appreciate the thanks. Maybe learn how to fight on your own in the future. and I don't mean with that attitude of yours- it won't do much with hand-to-hand."

Jack couldn't help but grin at the stowaway's words, obscured by his place behind his daughter, whose face suddenly grew long in anger, "E-Excuse me?"

All Fareeha could do was cock a grin as her hand reached over, her two fingers gently taking the next page and flipping it to its opposite side, remaining quiet as she read silently, leaving Angela in a fuming state, prepared to reply in kind, though she quickly checked herself, realizing, again, that her father was there. Whatever feelings of adoration she might have had for her stowaway were once again thwarted as Fareeha, herself, merely proved an unnecessary hindrance to anything in the way of politeness.

Angela spun around with a frown, muttering under her breath, "So much for that thank you…"

As she stomped out of the room, her father followed behind, smiling lightly at the idea of his daughter's first experience with the stowaway proving to be a distasteful one. Despite his better judgement, he thought it to be a worthy requital toward any future thoughts she might have toward visiting the woman. Even if he knew not much of anything would stop Angela from doing whatever she wanted. It was a quality he had so admired about his wife; what seemed so lovely about the woman he'd married now seemed so troubling about the woman he'd raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the length of time it took to put this chapter out. I've received a temporary promotion at work, which is honestly where I do most of my writing, so that's been putting a hindrance on such things, alongside the fact that the holiday season is fast approaching, meaning busy, busy, busy. If you'd like updates in-between chapters, I'd be more than happy to start posting more fan-fiction content on social media, specifically my Twitter- that's where most of my scheduling is revealed xD I'm thoroughly enjoying writing this story though, so I'm very excited to see so many positive comments here and on FF; it really means a lot to me :)


	27. Between Us Girls

Angela was still slightly muddled as she stood in the crew's quarters while Lena barricaded the door, happily shoving more and more pieces of furniture against the threshold before hopping her way back toward Angela, Lena's exuberance catching Angela's wayward attention, her voice appearing in a questioning curl, "I don't think Lucio or Junkrat are the type of guys to peek, you know. Jesse- Mr. McCree certainly is not."

Lena frowned as she rushed toward a large rectangle of a suitcase, unlatching it's front excitedly, "I agree, but this makes it more exciting, right? Besides, I don't know about Junkrat quite yet; he's a sneaky one when he wants ta be. Now c'mon over here!"

Sighing, Angela acquiesced, scooting over toward the open crate that was piled to the brim with clothing, Lena gasping with surprise, "How much did ya pack?!"

"I don't know; father said we'd be gone for a handful of months and you kept saying that anything could happen, before raising your hands and wiggling your fingers, I figured I might as well prepare for any eventuality," Angela explained with a shrug, "It's not that much, is it?"

Lena wondered for a moment, "Dunno. I only ever have four outfits on me most of the times."

"Four?!" Lena gasped, "H-How?!"

"You just wash 'em when you can! If you can't, just wear 'em until you can," Lena grinned.

Angela's wide eyes continued their horrified stare, "H-How?!"

"Look, If ya want something for every occasion, it's no big deal or anything, so long as ya don't mind luggin' this thing around with ya all the time. but that's beside the point. Let's see here…"

She began rummaging through the crate, lifting up stacks of clothing and fabric, "You said you wanted somethin' for the bonfire tonight- your first taste of Hawaii! If anything, the more clothes you have, the more options we have to work with."

"I mean, yeah, but I wasn't wanted to spend an hour on this," Angela explained warily, "It's not really a big deal; I figured we'd just put together something-"

"It is a big deal!" Lena cried in near distress, "They award the pink lei to the most beautiful patron at the end of the event!"

She sent her hand up to her face, her thumb and finger just barely touching one another, "I missed it by thaaat much last time after we first arrived."

Groaning, Angela replied, "I still don't think it's any big-"

"It also comes with some local beverage to celebrate- a bottle of rum made up of the local sugarcane," Lena winked, sending a brotherly arm over Angela's shoulders, pulling her close.

"You know I don't like alcohol…" Angela frowned.

"Suits me just fine," Lena smirked, "I'm not what they're looking for. My wily charm didn't do the trick the trick last time. I mean, look at me, I'm lithe, with not a bust to be found. You, however, maybe just do the trick… You get the lei, I get the rum; who's to lose?!"

Angela sighed, "Well, my time go one, and any lackadaisical behavior I'd have wished for during the thing. What even makes you think I'd have any better chance? I'm not much off the boyish side as you are by now."

At that, Lena cocked a grin, "Ah, But you've got a secret weapon. Two, in fact! and then you've got the blonde hair, the pearly skin from being in the quarters for a month."

"I-I don't know…" Angela replied, suddenly blushing as Lena hopped around to examine her.

Lena spun toward the chest full of clothing, happily contending, "Tell ya what. I dress you up and you see what I've got. If I get you something you like, hey, you'll enjoy yourself all the same, won'cha?"

At such a proposal that didn't appear to not benefit her, Angela gave a gently nod as she unsurely crosses her arms, her brow dropping worriedly, "O-Okay…"

"Beautiful!" Lena shouted, returning to her hurried rummaging, "Now let's see… We need a natural color, huh… Greens or blues, maybe; you bring any dresses?"

Angela dipped her head low, "I never really cared for 'em-"

"Not what I asked, Ang," Lena retorted, still sighing.

"…there's one or two," she admitted, lowly.

"Hmm," Lena hummed to herself, "Buried deep at the bottom, apparently. Let's see… Ah ha! Hmm, a black one? How bold! and a white and yellow sun dress type thing."

She held the black one up toward Angela, Lena's eyes popping out, "Whoa! Did you think you were gonna seduce somebody on the trip?"

"Th-They say you should always have a black dress for formal occasions!" Angela sputtered out in explanation, reaching out to tear the dress away from Lena's clutches, though the third mate proved too spry, yanking the dress away, "C'mon! Give it here!"

Lena mused, "But I think it could work! Look, just put it on and we'll check it out, okay?"

Once again, the presence of Angela having a choice appealed to her stubborn nature; that, and the wanting to remove the dress from any and all discussion, "F-… Fine."

"Smashing!" Lena exclaimed, handing off the dress, "While you're doin' that, you can enlighten me on the story of that dress."

"What makes you think there's a story?"

Lena grinned, "Because people don't get dressed up just to wear around the house. They get dressed up to impress people…or a person. and you're gonna spill the beans, girl!"

"Oh, hush…" Angela replied nervously, "Even if there was a story, I have no need to-"

"Shh! Less talking, more dressing!"

Angela looked over her shoulder, staring at Lena, who sat cross-legged up on the table fiddling with some fabric along her sleeve, "What, with you here?"

"We're all girls here," Lena shrugged, her attention remaining on her shirt, "You think I'm gonna bite or somethin'? You're not even a fine croissant!"

"W-Well, no, but-"

Lena gave a dramatic sigh, spinning around atop the table with a tone feigning distress, "Fine, fine; I'll just expel all this effort just to give you some privacy, ma'am."

"It's not that. I didn't mean to be rude or anything," Angela frowned, gingerly pulling her shirt down from her shoulder.

"It kinda is," Lena grumbled, "I thought we were like sisters or something- we can talk to each other about anything."

She fell silent, though only because she was smirking with a malevolent sneer, "Like about which girl you bought that dress for."

"Lena!"

"Oh, come on! Spill it, blonde! What, at least give me her name or something! Who was the lucky lady?" Lena persistent, gesticulating in a backwards pantomime from Angela's view.

Angela's skin began to wax crimson. Despite referring to somebody back home, from the past, as Angela's eyes worked toward the mildly skimpy sort of dress, she realized quite plainly that Lena could very easily be referring to a woman aboard that very ship. Such a thought made Angela tremble, and she was ever so thankful for having forced her superior to turn away.

She returned to Lena's chuckling, the third mate's tone agiggle, "You know, you're a lot less hard-headed when we're talking about relationships."

This caused Angela to frown, looking up from her newly bare chest, "Okay, for one, we're not talking about relationship. At all. You are the one persisting, despite my wishfulness to the contrary."

Lena sighed, shrugging once more, "I'm just trying to have some fun. In all seriousness, you truly are like a sister to me- I guess I just got a bit carried away."

Even through such apologetic words, Lena's voice was oddly cheerful, leaving Angela to frown to herself, thinking about the story they'd all been introduced to relating the Lena, her father, and particularly, her sister. Did she remind Lena of her or something? For such a tragic association with that title, sister, did she do it some justice, particularly a moment ago?

She decided not to worry too much on the matter, instead worrying about her increasing state of undress, pushing her breeches down her legs as she gave a wary glance beyond her side, checking to see if Lena was upholding her current task. Though, in that moment, a knock arose at the door, sending the third mate into a frenzied tizzy as she jumped to her feet atop the table, dashing toward the pile of furniture that prevented entry.

"Do- Don't let them in!" Angela cried, nearly tripping onto herself as she shock kept her from yanking her breeched back up along her legs.

Lena assured easily, "Come on; you think I'm dumb 'r somethin'? Of course I'm not gonna let 'em in!"

Still, playing along, Lena crawled up the barricade and pressed an ear to the door, unveiling a teasing voice, "Who is that called upon thyself?"

"Your officer…" came the deepening voice of Officer Song, her grumbling voice indicative of her swelling anger.

"Officeeeeer..?" Lena replied, amused, knowing the door wasn't to open regardless.

A pregnant sort of pause arose between the two, resulting in a sudden barrage of fists against the door, sending Lena tumbling down the pile of furniture, the stack itself threatening to collapse amidst the barbarous act, Hana's angered voice arising in crescendo, "LENA OXTON! LET ME IN!"

Lena frowned, returning to her feet, "Now listen here, missy; I am your superior…I think. and I've about had enough of your-"

Another flurrious series of knocks interrupted her, followed by Hana continuing, "This is my quarters too, Lena! and I'm not even about to be told that I'm not allowed my cargo!"

Lena began to turn back to ascertain Angela's status, though quickly returned to the door, recalling her word, instead deciding to buy more time regardless of the general state of dress, "Eh, uh… Y'know, I think they moved your bunk to the gun deck, didn't the-"

"Lena?!" Hana cried out, a hideous creaking of wood bursting through the air as she gave a swift kick at the door, sending the assortment of tables and chairs crumbling toward the floor, right in Lena's direction.

The third mate quickly jumped in surprise, immediately turning to run, though was quickly swallowed by the incredible maw of the avalanche of wooden accouterments, a single arm reaching out from the conglomeration, the fingers upon her hand clawed in distress as she was felled by her own design.

As the chaos ended, Hana pushed open the door, poking her frowning face into the room, her brow quickly narrowing further in curiosity as she zeroed in on Angela, whose breeches were returned, though it had left little time for her to cover her torso, leaving her turned around, staring horrifically at Officer Song over her shoulder with her arms crossed across her chest.

"…what's going on in here..?" Hana asked quietly, a far cry from her previous mood.

Angela stammered a reply, "W-W-We- We were, uh-"

"Raaaaawr!" came a vicious growl as Lena emerged from the pile of destruction, her arms curled into claws that yanked her out from the stack, though she just as quickly lost her footing, collapsing down its side and sliding onto the floor, quick to come to Angela's aid, despite hitting her jaw on the way down, "We war jus' 'inding c'othes ta war."

Hana's eyes narrowed, "…war?"

Lena nodded in assurance, though Angela quickly caught the misunderstanding, rolling her eyes, "Wear. We were finding clothes to wear, no big deal, alright?"

Unconvinced, Hana frowned, crossing her arms as she stepped into the room, "Then why the secrecy, huh? For safety reasons, no doorway is to be held, locked, or otherwise obstructed. I would think the safety officer would know such things…"

Lena's lips curled distastefully at such an assertion, throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "Hey, a girl's dignity comes before safety, ya know."

"Oh right; no wonder the woman with nothing in the way of dignity was put in charge of safety," Hana groaned, shaking her head as she entered further into the room, strolling toward her bunk, earning a vicious glance from Lena as she did so, "I was just getting something; I wasn't trying to destroy your piddling construction there."

Chuckling, Lena turned her head back over her shoulder toward Angela, speaking sardonically, "She honestly thinks I know what 'piddling' means…"

At Angela's stare, she quickly whipped back around toward Hana, finding the officer examining the crate, having stopped her gait, turning up toward Angela curiously, "Is this about the bonfire?"

"Oh, uh… Yeah," Angela replied, rather ashamedly.

Hana gave a flippant shrug before continuing toward her bunk, "I see Lena got to you. Good luck with that, though I doubt your chances will be much greater than hers."

"Hey!" Lena arose, slightly offended, "I'll have you know, I was fourth in voting!"

Hana shot her a glare, "Out of four women and a man."

With trembling lips, Lena turned toward Angela with a shaking eyebrow, "Don't you dare ask where the man came in at…"

Just as quickly, Angela shook her head.

"Anyway," Hana went on, kneeling beside her bunk to reach beneath for a case of hers, "You two are both too pale. Do either of you even have an inkling of how foreign you look here? You're both sickly looking; nuh uh, they don't much care for any of that. You'd have a better chance with me out there; at least I have something of a faint coloration at my-"

As though catching a whiff of the silence behind her, Hana's head gradually turned to her shoulder, meeting with Lena's critiquing eyes, "No… No, no, no."

Lena stepped toward her.

"No!" Hana repeated, quickly rising to her feet, waving her hands out in front of her, "No! Nuh uh! No!"

With a furtive grin, Lena approached with indifference, "C'mon now; you know you wanna share some sugarcane rum…"

"Uh, no I don't?!" Hana replied, "I've worked way too hard to get into a dress, or whatever the hell else!"

Lena tilted her head toward Angela, "Well so has she, but she doesn't mind using what she has to her advantage."

"And how is this to my advantage?!" Hana questioned easily, bumping her back into the wall behind her, coming to a stop.

Raising a single finger to her lips in thought, Lena hummed mutely to herself as her mind whirled, attempting to come up with anything that might gain the advantage in this discussion, "Hmm… How about this; if you do this for me, I'll letyouupinmynest- Now before you say no, because I know you hate it, hear me out! I know you're a big thing in a little package, but if you work up the nerve to get up there, y'know, you'll feel like-"

"Let me help…"

Hana had spoken in such a whisper that Lena had nary heard her, the third mate's skin curling at the quiet voice, "Help with what?"

She noticed Hana's glance over toward Angela, who'd by now had returned her brassiere to her chest, though she remained turned away, her brow curled curiously as she met Hana's gaze. Lena turned toward Angela, herself confused by Hana's sudden interest, though before she could speculate, Hana spoke up, albeit quietly.

"I, uh… I hate dressing up myself, but, you know, I kind…like…"

Lena had to withhold a squeal, spinning toward Angela happily, "Did'ya hear that?! We got us a-!"

"I don't want any input from you!" Hana interrupted with a fierce glare, "You've got the palette of a groundhog."

Taking offense, Lena took it easier knowing this was a route toward her sugarcane rum, simply remaining quiet with a frown as she followed behind Hana, who was critiquing Angela with narrowed eyes, much to her subject's embarrassment.

"Uh, Officer Song…" Angela quietly managed, "I don't think this is-"

"You were going with black?!" Hana shouted aloud, suddenly.

Lena cried, "It was just to see what it might look like!"

"Philistines…" Hana grumbled, dropping her face into an open palm, "We have some work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jpbake (FF): I think Jack's reluctance toward Angela getting to know Fareeha is in a more general sense. He knows how headstrong his daughter is, and how whimsical she sees the world- he may just not want his daughter getting to know a stranger and learning enough about her to get invested in something either outlandish or out of his control or oversight.From his perspective, he hasn't a clue that Angela has had any interaction with the stowaway, save the Hanamura assault and her apology, so I don't think he suspects much in the way of anything romantic.
> 
> That being said, Angela accused him, early on, of drawing from her coming out as a lesbian and preventing her from getting to know their stowaway on that basis alone, so that by itself might give him some cause to wonder about romanticism being afoot. At this point in the story, however, it's mostly a general apprehension, not wanting Angela getting carried away on outlandish pursuits, but we'll see ;)
> 
> TheVampireStrahd (FF): Mei is very much alive, don't worry xD I'll probably write her in at some point as a teaser, building an island utopia or something, but I had no intention of her having been killed off or anything :)


	28. Giving and Taking

Fareeha sat with her knees pulled up, a book tucked at her midsection and resting back against her thighs by the light of a lantern that was brought down by Captain Morrison earlier to offer her enough light to continue whatever activities she could with only a single free hand. With a pile of books, she hadn't an issue continuing along in kind, leaving her quietly passing the time down here. She turned her head to examine her crate, leaning over to grab a small pouch of crisps and gingerly opening them before resting them by her side, alternating her hand between her book at taking a bite to eat every so often.

The lantern light flickered calmly throughout the hold as her eyes slowly wavered down the page as she read, the words acting more along the lines of her own escapism even more so now that she found herself imprisoned, more or less, down here in the dank hold of a ship. Even if she understood she had it better than most any other similar circumstances, it still slightly annoyed her to be caged, and the constant numbness coursing through her enchained arm was a particularly frustrating price to pay for it.

Still, as her eyes rolled along the page, she wasn't exactly reading. If anything, she was skimming over the words, taking on the persona of somebody reading without actually deriding any meaning from the curving shaped upon the sheets of paper. She hadn't even turned the page, merely restarting from the top whenever she reached the bottom, her mind off somewhere else for a night or two now.

She frowned upon realizing this distressing fact, shutting the book before laying it beside her, bringing the pouch of crisps onto her lap as her eyes rolled, taking a handful of the tiny, thin squares of cooked potatoes and tossing them in her mouth, a frown still forming as she looked off into the dark hold, tracing lines between crates to occupy herself now, though it wasn't long before she caught something with her eye, an unamused curling of her brow taking her face.

"I said I don't enjoy being stared at," Fareeha spoke up, surprisingly even-keeled despite her annoyed face.

Nothing changed after her low declaration, so she sighed, rolling her eyes, "I've stared at those crates for weeks; I think I'm able to tell when shapes change in between them. Get out or tell me what you want; you're not supposed to be down here."

She gave a challenging stare until, finally, the sound of movement broke through the hold, the sliding skid of steps emerging, following along behind Angela as she peered out from around the other side of the cargo, a blank look on her face as she met Fareeha's eyes, the stowaway groaning quietly, "You again, Princess? You know, you're headed for a keelhauling of your own if you keep sneaking down here."

Angela frowned, "Well, I figured I'd take the high road. My previous thanks obviously wasn't enough to earn me anything but your ridicule, so I figured I'd offer something more substantial than my words in apology."

Ready to object in a characteristically haughty fashion, Fareeha couldn't help but become interested in her proposition, choosing to remain quiet as Angela stepped out from behind the crate, for a moment leaving Fareeha surprised by her shockingly revealing outfit of dark blue tones swirled along her snowy white skin. She might of thought Angela wasn't presenting her own self in apology, though just as quickly, she pulled out a deep stein from behind her, swirling it around as her fingers cupped its lid.

"We won some sugarcane rum at the bonfire tonight. Our comms. officer begrudgingly did her best work, it seems. I figured I'd share some of my portion with you, though it quickly turned into my entire portion, seeing as how I don't drink," Angela explained with a shrug, "Care for a taste?"

Fareeha blinked in confusion, catching something quite different from her words, though she replied evenly enough, "I don't usually refuse a drink."

"Good," Angela nodded with a grin, "At least this time, you aren't immediately spouting out venom."

She reached out her arm in offering the stein to Fareeha, who took it and brought it toward her face, dipping her nose into the vessel for a whiff, "I'll save it for after I find out if the taste matches the smell."

"Lena said it was good," Angela explained, rather weakly however, "Then again, she pretty much likes anything with sugar in it, sugarcane included, it seems."

"Or she's just a fan of getting wasted. This is strong stuff," Fareeha notes before tilting the stein toward her, immediately dropping it backwards as she jerked forward into a massive burst of coughs, "PFFT! COUGH! COUGH! Fuck!"

Angela held back a giggle at the sight, politely covering her mouth as she rested her elbow on a crossed arm, "Too strong?"

"Stronger than a fuckin' block of sandstone!" Fareeha muttered, sitting the stein down to wipe away her mouth at her wrist, "No wonder they all run around half naked around here- I'm shocked they can manage the coordination to put anything on."

After a further spurt of weakening coughs, Fareeha returned the stein to her hand, raising it back to her face as Angela replied in surprise, "You're still going for it?"

"I fuckin' love it," Fareeha shrugged, more carefully taking a swig now that she knew what to expect, exhaling in a refreshed sigh as she pulled the rim from her lips, "I told you, I don't turn back drinks."

Shrugging, Angela spoke up, "Explains why you ask for a drink every time I see you. You normally gravitate toward harder stuff?"

"Not often, but it's fine once in a while," Fareeha explained, taking mother swig, "When you grow up on ships, you're kind of forced to take what you can get, and nobody really cares what a child wants in the way of beverages. It was either get a taste for alcohol or die from dehydration."

Her dark eyes turned up toward Angela, "So you don't drink?"

"Is this your way of getting me to admit that I'm not a 'real' sailor?" Angela asked with a pithy tone.

"Just curious," Fareeha shrugged, "I know you're the captain's daughter, but I didn't figure the crew'd go out of their way to accommodate you in that way."

Angela explained, "It's just a few cases of fresh water. I mean, I hate the taste, but if I'm forced- I grew up in a rather pious sort of place; you know, the devil's afoot whenever alcohol takes your mind or whatever. Most of my guardians while father was away, they'd have given me the lash were they to find out I was doing anything with the stuff- I just never acquired a taste."

Fareeha's brow popped up in sarcastic surprise, "And you get onto me for calling you 'princess'…"

With an upset face, Angela's lips curled distastefully, though she caught herself quickly enough, keeping herself from lashing out. Her quietness was rewarded as Fareeha frowned, reaching out he stein in her hand up toward her.

"Have a taste, then."

"After that display a moment ago?" Angela asked incredulously.

Fareeha shrugged, "A cough is a cough is a cough."

"So what's hacking up a lung?" Angela asked with a frown.

With a smug grin, Fareeha swirled the stein of whisky as she brought her knee up to rest her arm upon, still offering the vessel to Angela, "Just take a drink. You'd be shocked how quickly ambivalence turns positive between a shared drink."

"Are you saying you want to know something about me?" Angela questioned with an air of suspicion.

Fareeha grinned, "I still need to figure out why exactly you keep wandering down here to see me."

Now was Angela's turn to frown, "You seriously think there's a reason? Let's see, the first time, I was just trying to examine the cargo before you tackled me. The second and third time, I was just checking on you, when you assaulted me again and then forced me to-… You know, you have a bad habit of forcing people into bad situations!"

"Yet you keep showing up," Fareeha smirked, "You seem to have a bad habit of returning to people you find indignation toward."

Her anger rising, Angela shut her eyes for a moment to calm herself, leaving Fareeha to pull her stein back toward her and take a sip, allowing her eyes to wander overtop the cup as she did so. With Angela's eyes shut, she found the time to take in her body without repercussion, or rather, without casting the princess off in yet another whirl of upset. She knew she'd return anyway, but now, the first time catching such a prolonged glance at this woman just just a few nights ago, Fareeha knew she wanted little to provoke the woman toward leaving.

Angela was wrapped atop her breasts with a devilish shade of dark blue that seemed to hide her before the backdrop of the darkness behind her, even more so under the lantern light. It was such a shadowy sight, an enticing sort of mysterious that caused Fareeha remain with her sight upon her chest for a moment before wandering down to Angela' bare stomach, such a slate of glowing orange that must have been such a pearlescent shade. Even lower lay a rather short skirt of the same blue, Angela's legs pressed together as she stood somewhat at attention, even here, indicative of her upbringing.

Without much thought, Fareeha took a quick suck at her cup despite having emptied it at its current angle, leaving a rather loud curdle of a sound that broke Angela from her respite, through Fareeha's eyes had already meandered off before she could catch her staring. Angela groaned solemnly as she reached a hand up to rub her face with exasperation.

"Look, can we at least be cordial to one another?" Angela asked with a quiet voice, as if not expecting much from Fareeha's reply.

With a half-hearted shrug, the stowaway answered, "Okay, what do you want from me? and you'd better answer me. What, you want my necklace back? Think again. You want food? You'll have to bring me something better than whiskey, at least whiskey that you have in short supply."

"Maybe I just find you interesting," Angela challenged with a slight heatedness in her voice.

Fareeha rolled her eyes, "Oh, you find me a little more than interesting, Princess."

"Ah-! I-! Wh-?!" Angela suddenly stammered, severely taken aback by the insinuation, "I- I beg your pardon?!"

Smirking, the stowaway went on, "Funny how I know more than you while tied up down here."

Angela felt her arms tremble as a wave of anger and confusion washed over her, her teeth gritting tightly before she barked back, "I just can't believe somebody can be such a jerk when all I want to do is help! I come down and offer you a drink, offer you help, and every...fucking time, it's more of you being such a jerk!"

"I told you before, it's fun," Fareeha explained easily, taking another sip, "You're such a brat; somebody's gotta put you in your place, I figure."

Angela began to boil over, "That's all I get for helping a stowaway."

At that, Fareeha's eyes turned sinister as she slowly lowered her stein, "…excuse me?"

"You heard me. All this rudeness; must be typical of stowaways," Angela frowned as she crossed her arms.

With a start, Fareeha jumped up, catching herself with her feet flying underneath her to push her up to her feet, bowing her head low as her eyes glared back up toward Angela, "You wanna say that again, princess? I've forgotten more about being a captain than you'll ever even hope to know, so please don't-"

"Then why are you down here like a bilge rat?" Angela asked mutely, her voice growing emotionless as her anger dissipated into her words, "And I found out what 'pickarooning' means, by the way; I'd say you're far more stubborn than I am, stowaway."

Fareeha sneered, "You wanna say that one more time, to my face?"

Angela grinned, pleased that she was finally the one to have the other in her snare, "Nah, I think I'm fine staying back here and keeping an eye on just how easy it is to fuck with you for a change."

"Really?" Fareeha breathed with a hot breath, her sneer gradually melting into a mischievous grin, "You think I'm in your snare like a trapped animal? Princess, I can call your bluff any second and yank out every ounce of breath from your lungs. I just find it entertaining to know you're thinking you've one-uped me."

Not buying her words, Angela merely smirked, her arms outstretched in amusement, "It just shocks me that you're so easily kept in your place just by a simple-"

"Why don't you just be a good girl and kiss me already," Fareeha muttered quietly.

Without realizing, Angela's spine went cold, making good on Fareeha's threat a moment earlier, her voice losing itself amidst her own surprise, only managing a few choice sounds, "Wha-?! I-! D-?!"

"You say you want to fuck with me, but I know you'd rather cut out the 'with', princess," Fareeha challenged with a grin, "That's why you keep coming down here, huh? What, you're hoping for a better position to fuck yourself with me in view?"

Angela's eyes shrunk in terror, a gasp leaving her as she uttered painfully, "Who- Who told-..?"

"I didn't need to be told," Fareeha shrugged, "I was just minding my own business when, like manna from heaven, I feel a drop of something on my head. I look up and it must be rain, though rain doesn't taste nearly as sweet as what I tasted that night."

Now with a crimson face accompanying her dry throat and her devilishly quaking spine, Angela's mouth opened in aghast at what she was hearing, "Y-You-!"

"'You' what? I'm not the one spilling myself here, there, everywhere. That's on you, princess; I was just taking what was offered me," Fareeha explained with a grin, "So what, sea life caught you in a vice? What's your game, brat; you just into filthy stowaways? I'll warn you, I don't play those games."

Her heart torn between such a sinister revelation and having her feelings cheapened in such a hasty manner, Angela was left awestruck as she stood there, unable to either comprehend what was being said or just unable to move even her mouth. All she knew for sure was her anger and general upset, alongside a deepening embarrassment, and without much thought, she turned on her heel, more or less stomping toward the doorway, leaving Fareeha with a chuckle at the sight.

"And round three as well…" she muttered to herself with amusement, shaking her head in disbelief as Angela's insistence.

In a sudden halt, Angela froze as her eyes narrowed confidently as though in open defiance of Fareeha's statement. Her mind began jolting back into action, a emptiness welling up in her gut as she came to a quick conclusion as to her next action, suddenly turning back around and storming back toward Fareeha, leaving the stowaway amused even further.

"Already back for another one? I told you you were a pickaroon," Fareeha shrugged, her expression changing little as Angela failed to stop where she had been standing, instead advancing further straight toward where Fareeha stood.

As Angela stopped right in front of Fareeha, the two of them nearly touching, she reached up a hand to grasp a handful of the stowaway's shoulder-length jet black hair, using her clutch to pull herself the minuscule distance that kept the two's face's apart, her eyes unwavering as she stared into Fareeha's set.

"That's close enough, princess," Fareeha muttered with her still-straight face, her body having been pushed back against the hull by Angela's advance.

Angela shook her head almost vehemently, "Not for what you're wanting."

A smirk escaped Fareeha as she replied, "I've already had a taste, princess, I don't think you understand how little you have to offer."

"Then I won't offer anything," Angela muttered quietly, "I'll take what I want."

Her grip tightening only slightly, sending a mild pain along Fareeha's scalp, Angela pulled Fareeha's head down the inch or two that had kept them apart, pressing her lips against her stowaway's, both their eyes remaining open a she did so, staring at one another in quite the furious act of kissing. Fareeha's brow fell in determination, leaving Angela slightly deterred; she'd expected the simplest of kisses, yet Fareeha's free hand quickly shot around to Angela's bare skin of the small of her back, yanking her body into her own before Fareeha's lips slithered out from beneath Angela's, quickly taking Angela's lips into her own before giving a vigorous sort of suck at her skin.

Despite her own insistence, Angela could only slowly realize how quickly Fareeha had taken her instead, a curling of tingles rushing along her spine as her eyes narrowed, though remained open, not wanting to relinquish total control, which she ascertained, from Fareeha's own devilish eyes, the stowaway was attempting to claim for herself. Angela pulled her lips away for only the briefest of moments before returning to take Fareeha's lips, the two's kisses growing far deeper the more the two sucked and no lies at the other's skin.

Fareeha's eyes narrowed with a mischievous glare, causing Angela's eyes to waver only slightly. The next time Angela opened her lips to take the supple bottom of her opponent's own pair, Fareeha's hand slid up the temptuous curve at the end of Angela's back, sending a shock through Angela's body before quickly bringing it to the back of Angela's head, grabbing a handful of hair herself before allowing her tongue to furiously slither beyond her lips and Angela's, her eyes shooting open at the sudden occurrence, unsure of how to respond as Fareeha's dark eyes pierced her own.

Angela winced at the rush of sensations coursing throughout her body, the space between her legs alight at the very thought of being handled so brusquely by this woman, a spot in her mind wishing this stowaway would simply tear away whatever clothing she had on and strip the both of them of the tension surrounding them.

The rest of her realized she was still under the influence of the game the two were playing, Angela desperate to remain as unmoved as possible by the assault brought on between their lips, despite her face's reddening skin and tense eyes. She stretched out her own tongue to fight back, but Fareeha skillfully disarmed her, running her tongue along Angela's, massaging it as though it were another, not totally unlike, portion of her body.

Their sucking all but stopped as Angela's body quivered, their shared saliva dribbling down both their chins and Fareeha's piercing eyes watched Angela's body sink in retreat, her legs unable to carry the weight of her weakening body, though Fareeha quickly returned her arm to Angela's back, leaving her able to pull away her face, though she couldn't find the strength, or the will, to do so.

Her mind tensing with defiance, Angela's eyes softened under the cacophony of emotions roiling through her and her inability to simply dive into the sensations surrounding her. Tears began to form as she resisted the impulse to simply shut her eyes or make a sound, her throat begging for release as harshly as the whetted spot at her thighs was. Fareeha only watched Angela's melt into her with a triumphant sort of Look crossing her eyes as she did so.

At the end of her rope, Angela's eyes tended sorrowfully, a ragged moan escaping her, "Mmmm~!"

She felt Fareeha's lips tighten as she smirked against Angela's own pair, the both of them knowing she'd won this round, though Angela didn't much care. She shut her eyes, wrapping her arms around Fareeha's neck and pulling her into a deeper kiss, the two of them sharing pestering glances off one another's tongues as they danced as if in search of far more sweeter ventures, even if the taste of one another's mouths was far pleasant enough for the both of them after weeks without such a lascivious excursion.

Herself being the victor, Fareeha thought little else besides reciprocating much the same, lifting her ensnared arm up into the air before spinning around with Angela caught tight in her other arm, pushing her rather roughly into the side of the hill and pressing herself into the snow-white skinned women, ensnaring her as well between the wall and her own body.

Having gone far enough, their tongues had both tired, leaving Fareeha with little else but to pull away and entering into a series of short, heated breaths, turning her eyes down to watch Angela dutifully kissing at her chin, licking up the saliva that had collected there, sucking at her skin to gather even more of a sample of the woman who'd just imprisoned her with her own body, a rather delightful sort of servitude.

"Told you," Fareeha spoke up, trying to manage a grin with her weakened lips, "I can pull out every bit of breath from your lungs if I wanted to."

Lost in a space between loving kisses against tanned skin and an all-encompassing warmth coming off Fareeha's chest, Angela could reply with much else besides, "Fuck off."

Fareeha gave a smug grin, "Almost the correct wording for what I have in mind."

With an arm slung over her head, unable to relinquish its post, Fareeha spread out her feet with rather sultry intent, though as her one foot swung outward, it slammed into the stein she'd sat there, sending a rather loud clunk from the echo of its near-empty insides, but also sending Angela's eyes wide in realization.

"Shit!" she muttered in quiet horror, "I'm supposed to be on deck!"

She quickly tried to scurry away from Fareeha's scrupulous embrace, though the stowaway kept her stance, leaving Angela pushing weakly against her shoulders, still rather spent from the mere few moments they'd shared quite the kiss, "C'mon!"

Fareeha smirked, enjoying the sight of Angela's feeble attempt at escape, which now resembled something of a puppy pawing at its toy, though she ultimately acquiesced, stepping away to allow Angela to hop out from against the wall, diving low to collect the stein.

"I'm gonna catch hell if I'm caught," she explained, cleaning out the stein with a nearby rag.

Fareeha snickered, "And if you're caught with me on your breath?"

Angela was suddenly reminded of her own unfinished business, not only with Fareeha, but also with her own neglected lips, a tight bite catching her bottom lip as she hid a sigh, shaking her head, "Just- I've gotta get back up top."

She took a step before a dash toward the door, though just as she was about to exit Fareeha's reach, a powerful hand grasped her by the shoulder with such a desperate grab that Angela nearly fell backward as her stowaway's body fell back toward the wall in recoil from her tremendous reaching. She brought Angela's back against her stomach, her arms wrapping around the silky-smooth skin that so betrayed her weeks of labor aboard the ship.

Angela's eyes went wide with shock at the sudden action, though she quickly winced as Fareeha's hand slid up her toward her chest, gliding along her skin to leave a path of warmth until its worming fingers trailed slitheringly beneath the swirl of fabric that all but acted as a bra back along the beach. Angela's body shivered before a hand quickly spun up to grasp Fareeha's arm, though any resistance wasn't to be seen as the stowaway took a precious cup of her breast, lowering her head so that her lips came to Angela's ear.

"For one so furious to take me into a kiss, I might think your dress was meant to offer your own body to me," Fareeha presumes with a grin, "I know you'll be thinking about me tonight in your bunk. For your stein, I'll offer this fleeting memory, just to help you out."

At that, Fareeha's hand immediately slid out from beneath that warm fissure between skin and fabric, lightly pushing Angela ahead, though she quite nearly tipped Angela over before she suddenly caught her footing in stride, turning back toward Fareeha with a breathless display of utter confusion, one that forced a grin from the stowaway as she slid back down to sit once again.

"Go on, princess. Go prove you're an actual sailor or something. Whatever it is you do," Fareeha mused dismissively, waving Angela off."

Unable to find anything in the realm of speech, and knowing she truly did have to return up top, Angela slowly stalked away backwards, a rash of crimson covering her face before she finally turned and dashed away, leaving Fareeha to sigh triumphantly as she looked around for her book, reaching back for a crisp from earlier.

"Shame," was all she muttered to herself with a shrug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the extent of depravity upon my imagination xD


	29. Oxtontacious

Angela stepped into the deck with bleary eyes, still somewhat shaken by the events that had just transpired, though she was somewhat taken aback by how busy the Splitstream was, a large number of burly harbormen shoving giant crates onto the deck as Captain Morrison supervised, an outstretched fingers directing the hired hands. She trailed toward her father, catching his attention with a smile before he turned back, speaking aloud in addressing his daughter.

"There you are," he began with a knowing smirk, "Must have tasted good, huh?"

Angela's eyes went blank as she came to a stop, her face devoid of emotion, leaving her father to return to her in confusion at her uncharacteristic silence, his brow curling unsurely, "…the whiskey, dear."

"Oh!" Angela piped up with relief, "Y-Yeah! I, uh, couldn't not finish it all!"

Her father watched her curiously, but disregarded the whole affair as he returned to directing the harbormen, "Line! Starboard side! Anyway, I was worried it might be too strong and you had to lie down or something; I warned you when Lena gave you the stuff, but the more the merrier, I suppose."

Jack reached down for a sack of coins he'd strapped to his belt, handing it toward Angela without looking, "We sold more than I expected, given our delay, so I figured we'd take on some more cargo on the way to Asia. We leave at the break of dawn, so here's your share of the primage for taking on the new cargo- feel free to go into town and spend it, save it, so what you will."

"Thanks," Angela spoke up with a smile, accepting the small satchel of coins, standing beside her father with crossed arms, "You need anything?"

He shrugged, "I have to stay aboard and keep everything in order. I believe Lena is running around helping, but with only a crate or two left, she'd probably enjoy you asking to go into town, so have at it. My quarters are stocked well enough for the journey."

"Alright," Angela replied with an upturned tone, "But don't blame me if I've got something neat and you've got nothing!"

Jack grinned, "I've my daughter aboard and she's proven herself quite the able sailor. I'd say that's nearer than anything you could ever find in town. Now get to it, okay?"

Quietly hiding a blush, Angela couldn't help but smile at her father's words, reaching over to give him a sidelong hug before walking off toward the bow of the ship, carefully meandering between teams of strapping men who were knee-deep in transporting goods onto the ship. Without much searching, she found Lena soon enough, the third mate crouching beside a large crate and scrawling upon its face with a inked tool to denote its destination.

"Hey, you almost done?" Angela asked quietly.

The third mate's lips spun in concentration as she finished up, "Yeaaaah, juuuuust aaaaa… Okay, that does it. What's up?"

Angela answered as she held up her satchel, "Captain's divvying up all our portions; I figured if you wanted, we could go into town and-"

"Would I?!" Lena shot preemptively, bounding up to her feet with a start, "You haven't a clue how long I've been waiting for a shopping buddy to come aboard! Nobody ever takes me up on the offer twice- How exciting!"

Angela very quickly felt a twinge of uncertainty hearing that, though she still followed along as Lena started her dash to find Captain Morrison for her share, finding him by the port side ramp with his attention buried in his handful of papers as he calculated figures in his head. Lena snuck up toward him, wanting to yank free her own satchel from his belt without bothering him, though to the Captain, it must have seemed a rather dubious act.

"Nobody likes a tea leaf, you know," Jack notes absently without looking up, earning a distasteful frown from Lena as she crossed her arms.

She responded with an unhappy voice, "Hey, no need to pin such a thing on me, Cap'n!"

Jack only smiled in kind, reaching down to nab another satchel from his waist to hand her without his sight, "Just go on, okay? You two have a good time. Don't stay out too late; we're up bright and early, shopping out at dawn."

"Yeah, yeah," Lena muttered as she buried her own attention, and nearly her face, into her satchel to count her coins, leaving Angela to be the respectful one of the two, the captain's daughter nodding obediently.

"Yes, father. I'll make sure this one gets the message, too," Angela answered with a mild smile, patting her friend's shoulder to denote her direction.

Captain Morrison nodded before the two exited, Angela carefully guiding Lena down the ramp as she was still busy counting, exclaiming as the two stepped onto the dock, "Damn! What a score! Whatcha getting' with your share?"

Angela shrugged, "I don't even know what we'll find there. I know you guys said everything's here, but-"

"Well, everything is here in Hawaii, but everything's in Singapore," Lena explained dutifully, raising a finger in instruction, "I wouldn't be shocked if most of the crew simply waits until then to part with their coin, but you and I, we know better…"

She reached an arm around Angela's shoulders, pulling her close and giving her a wink, "We know just how fleeting money can be, and we don't mind allowing its trade to come as naturally as the trade winds."

"Actually, I like to save up when I-"

"SO!" Lena interrupted, "Let us at least see their wares down at the marketplace. I'm not about to lose you, too, when it comes to the worldly art of shopping!"

Angela's face shrunk curiously, "Yeah, why don't the others enjoy shopping?"

"They do, just not with me for whatever reason," Lena shrugged with her lips tugging indecisively to one side, "I dunno, I guess I frighten 'em with my bargaining skills or something. Like, I brought Lu along one time and he was speechless; I bought me a replica statuette of some Ancient Greek artifact, and I managed to haggle it down just above my purse from, what, fifty doubloons? I was on it that day!"

"Wait," Angela muttered, her eyes wincing in thought, "just above your purse?"

Lena shrugged, "I mean, Lu had to contribute some of his own coin."

She began to laugh, "Like I said, he was speechless! I was so quick; my hand went from my side and grabbed some of his coins like a coiled rattlesnake! He didn't even know what to say!"

As Lena's cackling went on, Angela felt her hand tighten at her own satchel, finally piecing together enough to ascertain the other's disdain for shopping with this one. The two continued through the crowd before showing up at the head of the trading square just within the town's limits, the entire scene more akin to a carnival than a marketplace. There were lines of stalls where merchants showed off their wares, all sitting in a square that surrounded an empty sheet of stones that made up a rudimentary entertainment area, home to a few jugglers and magicians as Angela peered in their direction while following Lena along the open-air stalls.

"Ooooh!" Lena mused loudly, not two stalls in, ogling at an assortment of leather-worked garments all sitting in pretty rows, "Look at that sweater! I wonder how cold it'll get along the way…"

Feeling slightly obligated to remain within Lena's general vicinity, given the invitation, Angela allowed her fingers to lift and slide away different garments in front of her, perusing until Lena either discovered the prices or merely lost interest, the two advancing toward the next stall in line.

"One time, I found a wooden snake!" Lena recalled with enthusiasm, "It was a string with wooden cylinders attached along it to make it slither. I'd hoped to find it again since I couldn't afford it, but I've never come across one since. I try not to let anything escape from me now; who knows when you'll- rain sticks!"

She pounced to the next stall, vigorously grasping the lengthy stick that had been hollowed out and filled with versions bits, allowing Lena to spin the thick staff around and listen to its contents falling through along its insides, emulating rainfall somewhat. She gasped with delight, holding the large stick to her ear and nodding approvingly, almost as if the sound was lulling her into a separate world entirely.

"Ahh, there's nothin' quite like these," she mused with a contented smile, "Wanna try?"

Angela nodded curiously, taking a separate rain stick and following Lena's motions from a moment earlier, smiling lightly at the desired effect, "Wow, these are nice. Are you gonna get one?"

"Pfft, I've got, like, twenty," Lena proclaimed rather proudly.

As if she should have expected as much in the way of odd facts about this woman, Angela bit her lip with slight incredulity before returning her stick to the basket it had come out of, Lena doing the same before the two went about their exploration.

"Hey," Angela spoke up suddenly, Lena's attention having gone unabated for long enough for her to ask a question, "You know that dress-"

Lena whipped around, "Who was it for?!"

Angela groaned, "Nobod- I mean, I had an idea of somebody, back home, but you know… Look, you know I'm, uh-"

Her eyes peevishly turned toward the crowd surrounding them, hoping Lena would catch her drift without her having to speak it aloud. After a cursory glance into the distance as she thought, Lena nodded attentively, much to Angela's delight.

"Yeah! I like meatballs in my spaghetti too, but sometimes it's nice getting the unaltered noodles with some butter," Lena smiled gleefully, though it only led to Angela covering her face with embarrassment as the third mate nearly salivated at the thought of food, "Speaking of, I wonder what food they have here…"

She turned an eye over her shoulder toward Angela, offering a wink, "I'll make sure we find one serving spaghetti and meatballs, don't worry."

"No! No- Lena!" Angela shouted, desperately grasping Lena's arm before she could run off, the third mate's curious glare meeting Angela's desperate face.

Frowning, perhaps at being unable to seek food, Lena replied weakly, "Whaaaaat? I'm dying here!"

"Well how do you think I feel? I've got something big weighing on my mind," Angela returned, a slight tremor in her voice, "Look… You knew I had…a girlfriend before we left on this trip, right?"

"Pfft, oh yeah," Lena shrugged, though her expression suddenly turned in a knowing fashion, "Aaaaah, so that's who the dress was for. Sorry; I didn't mean to sound like I was- Well, 'accusing' isn't it. Sorry for suggesting you had a boyfriend or something; I usually just assume-"

"No, it's no big deal, really, I just- I mean, you are, uh…right?"

Lena's eyes narrowed as her thoughts trailed, along with her attention span, her mind churning heavily like a steam engine as she worked through subtext, finally concluding with a devious sort of grin, "Angela Morrison, are you asking if I'm available?"

"N-No! I-!"

"'cause, I mean, I know I'm a looker, but, I mean, I'm the kind of bird who's primed and ready to settle into a nice, cozy relationship, y'know?" She explained with a wandering voice, her eyes raised in thought, "I can already tell, you're not exactly the kind of girl who's one to be tamed; you need somebody to run alongside, y'know?"

Despite her once embarrassed face, Angela had softened somewhat at Lena's words, finding them slightly endearing, if not also somewhat on the mark, "Gee, I- That was kind of nice, actually."

Shrugging proudly, Lena smiles, "Meh; live long enough on the streets, you really know what makes folks tick, y'know?"

"I suppose," Angela admitted before going on, "That wasn't what I was asking though…"

Lena's body jerked in surprise, her brow upturned in worry, "So you really were wanting to set me up with your dad?!"

"What?! No! How did you-?!"

"Look, Ange! I love you all like family, but Cap'n's like my own dad, y'know? Not to make you jealous or any- Well, you know."

Angela cringed with worry, "No, I don't…"

Lena groaned as though this entire maelstrom of emotion had been enough to run her ragged just standing here, "Not that I haven't noticed that he's shown interest at time, but I mean, c'mon, don't leave your porridge near the loo, right?"

Feeling strained herself, Angela suddenly arose an odd curiosity as her eyes narrowed, "Wait, what?"

"I've seen those glances of his when I'm climbing up and down the netting; he can't take his eyes off me," Lena winked with a grin across her face.

Knowing, already, that those glances of her father's were ones of worry, boarding on distress by Lena's continued disregard for safety protocols, especially given her title as safety officer, Angela sighed with relief even as Lena continued musing aloud with no demonstration of modesty, "My wobbling hips have brought greater men than he to their knees, so I'm not entire surprised. Still, even without everything else, I can't exactly bring myself to send any sort of curious eyes his way. You probably get what I'm saying."

"So you see why I'm coming to you," Angela clarified, finally ready to subvert any and all embarrassment if only to avoid further distraction, "You get these things, between girls, you know…"

Lena shrugged, "I guess I do. What, are ya looking for something to mail back home to her? I always break up before voyages, personally; I don't need all that on my mind while I'm out at sea, nor do I really need 'em worried about me. You do you, though."

"Well, like, back when you were talking about 'taming' and stuff- I thought you didn't mind all that," Angela questioned warily.

Lena giggles, "I don't mind being tamed and settling down, but that doesn't mean I'm about to hop into any young thing and call my life quits. My best friend, Emily, she married young and now hasn't anything in the way of fun. Well, unless I'm in town, sneaking into her guest room window at night, waiting ya'-"

"Got it! Thank you!" Angela hurriedly exclaimed, waving her hands from side to side for emphasis before calming down, crossing her arms and turning her head away to hide her embarrassment, "Well, this girl back home, I don't think she wants to be tamed, but- I mean, how might I go about winning over that kind of girl, you think?"

Lena's lips curled for a moment before she grinned, looking back at Angela with an easy shrug, "In my own experience, anyway, I've found that people who don't want to be tamed- that kind of thing only extends so far, y'know? Others, you know, they just put on a face of not wanting to be subdued in that way, but only perform that act to make the prize of the one doing the taming all the more sweet."

"In essence," Lena clarified, noticing Angela's slight confusion, "Maybe try taming 'em when you get back home. Who knows, she might enjoy it, and hey, if it only leads to a short fling, at least you know the two of you aren't compatible anyway. Maybe get a little fun before parting ways."

The third mate gave another mischievous wink before her face fell in concern, suddenly speaking rather lowly, "…you're not gonna tell the Captain that I'm telling you this, are you..?"

Angela smiled innocently, "Never even crossed my mind."

"Excellent!" Lena praised with outstretched arms, "Big sister mode deactivated! Now, if you don't mind, we do have a time little, y'know; let's get going!"

Lena rushed toward the next stall, prepared to examine its wares until Angela followed behind her, reminding her easily, "Don't forget the food."

"Cripes!" Lena shouted in absolute aghast, "We gotta hunt, now! Go, go, go!"

With that, she whizzed through the crowd as skillfully as ever, dodging shoulders left and right before quickly getting lost in the calmly throng, leaving Angela alone, though it was just as well. She smiled to herself, having the freedom now of being alone, turning back toward one of the earlier stalls, having already eyed something that might help her accomplish her goals.


	30. Throes of Emotion

A few hours had passed since the two women had returned to the ship, meeting curfew for the few hours of sleep that would be needed for shoving off upon the break of dawn, just a few more hours away. Being that they were in port, lookouts weren't necessary, a fact that played along the tendrils of Angela's mind, the only mind now not lost to the world of sleep. She'd gone through the motions, preparing herself for bed and retiring, even if she remained in her silken dress that had accompanied her earlier. She'd hoped nobody would notice, which appeared to be the case, her nerves trembling anyway as her eyes shifted off her bunk into the crew's quarters, eyeing the two bodies she could actually see across the room.

It was a torment upon her to wait for the others to fall asleep, especially with her inability to see Jesse, Lucio, or Hana, who slept along the same wall of bunks as she, and knowing that the latter of the three was far too wearisome to simply fall asleep easily enough. Still, she took solace in knowing at least two sleeping patrons, and finding a particular glee from watching Junkrat swirling around his bunk in restless attempts to get comfortable as he snored. For Lena's part, she seemed comfortable enough, snoring rather devilishly with each appendage sprawled out, even a leg falling down toward the floor as it bent at the knee from the edge of the bunk. Angela couldn't help but grin, stifling back a giggle at the sight of the two of them.

Still, she knew she had a goal. Devoid of any night-time watchers, the whole of the Splitstream was her's to traverse at will, and her mind whirrled at the sensations roiling around her guy as she hopefully ran the next hour or so in her mind. She'd been so worked up since that kiss, and lying here still, it only served to frustrate her further, wishing so desperately to end the near-painful anticipation that made both pairs of lips quiver in aching suspense.

Unable to resist a tender touch of her own for too much longer, and not wanting to ruin herself for her wholly unknowing suitor, Angela prepared her leave, along with an excuse, should anybody ask where she was going. Her legs swung delicately from her bunk, her feet chilled just by resting an inch off the cool wood of the floor, sliding them into a pair of slippers before quietly making her way through the room toward the entry, crouching low in hopes of avoiding any wayward glances.

Even her thoughts had quieted into a silent whisper, her mind racing a she crept in gradual steps, "Okay… Okay… Just going for some fresh air- no, that's stupid; it's too cold for that. There's water in here, so they wouldn't buy that. Maybe a bit of food to tide me-"

"Angela!" came a rather loud voice from her side, accompanying a groggy tone, sending Angela into a frightful recoil as she threw her head to the side, catching the restless movements of Junkrat in his bunk, "Angela, ya pack such a punch, sheila! The way yer cascable fits along the reinforce… I'm sure you'd drive a drive engine wild!"

Sighing with relief at such nonsensical sleep talk, Angela clutched her chest to steady her heart, though it revved up once again as an object suddenly flew threw the air just over her head, a pillow appearing as Angela whipped her head around once again, the feathered piece slamming into Junkrat's face.

Hana's voice sudden arose in quiet annoyance, "Hush up, will you?! Please!"

Unfazed in his sleep, the pillow nonetheless rested atop Junkrat's face, leaving his gurgling muted. Angela's eyes went wide until she realized she had crouched beneath Hana's line of sight, and although the officer's ire was annihilating, it nonetheless offered Angela a chance to scurry off while Hana was busy grumbling angry-nothings at herself.

With quite the sigh of relief, Angela escaped the quarters, sh as king her head as if tossing off the last few moments of heart-pounding distress, even if, in the back of her mind, she recognized what she sought was just as furious when it came to the racing of her heart. While Angela had had two or three girlfriends back home, all of them kept extensively secret, at least until the confession to her father before this voyage, she had only truly been intimate with one of them, and even then, it was only twice, and her lover at the time was about as unsure as Angela was.

Still, the fumbling of sexual actions placed upon Angela those times only stoked her on, her body craving something that only a true virtuoso of such cunning arts could bestow, and while Fareeha was quite brutish, she was still beautiful, and still exuded a sensual sort of power, and above all, confidence that she could take things, and perhaps a woman, to completion. A confidence that Angela had glimpsed beyond on an occasion or two, but those moments of Fareeha surrounding herself to desperate cries only added to Angela's understanding of this woman. She was still hum as n behind that brusque exterior.

Especially after Fareeha's near-invitation, Angela was aching to experience something so entirely adverse to the rigid, restricted life she led beneath the authority of sitters growing up. Such a liaison, even if for one tonight, was so immensely enticing, especially for one so repressed, and so willing to reject conventional norms.

She thought of such things while carefully trailing down into the hull of the ship, whatever worry being culled from her mind as she remembered the lustful endeavor the two of them had partaken in. Her feet grew more swift the more she felt that gravid emptiness beneath the pit of her stomach begin to twinge with expectancy, nearly bounding down the stairs after passing by the captain's quarters, as if she hadn't seen a friend in years.

As she approached the hold, she slowed, not wanting to give away her excitement, though she only crept that much quicker along, keeping her presence just outside the door to work up some final bit of nerve, lowering her breathing and turning the corner. She stepped out from the collection of crates that left Fareeha obscured from the doorway, more or less stomping before coming to a stop.

"WHAT DO YOU NEED?!" she barked with a charged voice, forcing Fareeha to jolt awake, nearly tearing her arm off as she bolted forward from sitting against the wall.

The stowaway's eyes flew open in shock, taking a moment to assess the situation before shouting back in reply, "The fuck's your problem?!"

Aghast, Angela reached up to cover her mouth, "I-! I'm sorry! I didn't know you were asleep!"

With a desperate groan from the pain, Fareeha clutched her shoulder, massaging it as she spoke up in annoyance, "It's the middle of the fucking night; what the hell else would I be doing?!"

"D-D-" Angela stammered, still shook from the uproarious result of her barging in, trying to remain somewhat on script, "Do you need anything?!"

"Do I- You came all the way down here, woke me up, and maybe dislocated my arm just to ask me if I needed anything?!" Fareeha retorted, throwing her free arm toward her open crate, "What do you think I need?! Another broken arm to match this one? Goddamn, that smarts!"

Feeling rejection swirling into her need to help resolve a self-inflicted problem, Angela quickly approached the stowaway, bringing her arms up to examine her shoulder. Fareeha had turned her head down to examine the joint herself and, having not expected Angela's advance, she quickly jolted as she came into view like a frightened animal, quickly throwing a hand in her direction to shoo her away.

"I think you've done plenty already!" Fareeha shouted.

At that, Angela frowned, "Oh, you think so? Let me ask you this; while you out being a pain in the ass, did you ever receive any medical education?"

Fareeha's face suddenly turned with confusion, having not expected such a forceful tone, "What?"

"Just let me- Hey! No swatting!" Angela demanded, fighting Fareeha's free hand off, "I'll see if it's dislocated, alright?! If it is, I'll fix it up for you, unless you want to sit here in pain for the whole trip, throwing your shoulder into the wall, endlessly, like a gorilla, until you magically get it corrected."

With rolled eyes, Fareeha gave a pithy reply while her free arm fell away, "So what gives you any bearing over anybody else, princess?"

Angela sighed begrudgingly, reaching up to finally examine the shoulder, "Well, two years in a nursing school, for one. I actually spent time wanting to help people, not discovering the ways of a rattlecap."

She shot a sarcastic stare up toward Fareeha, "And two minutes looking up those names you called me."

Fareeha growled lowly as she turned her head away, shaking it in dismay at the situation as she rolled her eyes once more, "Two minutes. You must be so proud of your new-found knowl- OW!"

Her head shot back toward Angela, who eyed her down just the same, shoving a thumb into her shoulder to silence her with pain, leading Fareeha to cry out, "The fuck!"

"That's for continued insubordination," Angela muttered with a frown.

Fareeha grimaced, "I'm not even on this crew, dumbass!"

"No, but you're receiving aid from one," Angela clarified as she returned her attention upon the shoulder, "As such, you're expected to cater to any requests of mine as a professional courtesy to me."

"Check the books," Fareeha challenged with a sneer, "I don't believe inflicting pain is involved!"

Shrugging, Angela replied as such, "That was third-year material."

"Oh my god," Fareeha complained with a somewhat latent roll of her head along her shoulders, "Fuck, this is legitimately gonna be the death of me. I'm gonna wake up and you'll be holding me at syringe-point or some shit and I'll have to-"

CRACK

"FUCK!" she suddenly cried out in a severely loud whimper, clutching her shoulder as she collapsed into a crouch, hanging her head to hide her tears in a balled shape, "THE FUCK!"

Angela slid her palms along one another in accomplishment, "A 'thank you' would be appreciated; I figured that was better than telling you and letting you agonize."

"Oh, I'm fucking thrilled that this isn't agonizing!" Fareeha cried once again, rubbing her shoulder vigorously to attempt to smooth away the pain to little avail.

Angela took a few steps backward, resting her fists on her hips as she stood over the stowaway, "Deep breaths. It'll subside soon enough. Keeping it dislocated would be a lot more painful."

Silenced by the pain, Fareeha was only able to shake her head as though trying to show her refusal to listen, despite the fact that her breathes did, indeed, begin to slow. Angela didn't feel the need to point it out, and as the situation began to gradually settle, she brought her arms up in a cross at her stomach, watching Fareeha slowly make her way to a seated position, though she was still caressing her shoulder.

"Need anything?" Angela asked, trying to put forth some sense of concern that she truly felt inside.

Fareeha's eyes bolted up as if prepared to shoot out another vicious slight, though she just as quickly checked herself, sighing lightly as she shook her head, almost with disbelief, "No. I thirst, but- I'm fine."

Turning on her heel, Angela turned toward the nearest cask of water, taking an accompanying glass and dumping it in to fill it to the brim, pouring just a little back out and walking it over toward Fareeha with a cautious voice, "You're always asking for drink."

"Well, you keep asking," Fareeha shot back suddenly, raising her head to track Angela's movements.

Now was Angela's turn to roll her eyes with a frown, "Very astute observation there. How about, next, you-"

She sighed, shaking her head, "Y'know what, never mind. Here."

Seemingly surprised by the sudden change of conversation, Fareeha's brow curled with a curiosity as she received the glass, taking a sip, "What was that?"

"Nothing," Angela shrugged before crossing her arms once again, "You can only play this game of yours if I participate. So I'm not going to play it at all."

Fareeha gave a meandering frown, "Suit yourself, princess. You'll probably find our encounters a tad less interesting as a result, but hey, maybe you'll quit bothering me then."

"We both know that isn't gonna happen," Angela spoke up quietly.

Smirking, Fareeha replied with upturned eyes, "Oh? You feel as though your presence is worth more than an annoyance? I've got a surprise for you, princess, other than putting my shoulder back in place, which, I remind you, was your fault to begin with, you've done little more than drown yourself, cause a litany of disturbances to my state of being, and offer me a laugh or two at your naivety. Did I miss anything?"

Angela shrugged, "You missed the part where you couldn't get enough of my lips."

At such a sentence, Fareeha cocked a grin, "Ah, falling in love already? That explains the intrusion, I suppose. I appreciate the admiration of my craft, but seriously, you're barking up the wrong tree, princess."

Ever so slightly, Angela's once-confident expression began to wane, a confused look replacing it as she lowly asked, "Wait, you're not-"

"It was just another game, wasn't it?" Fareeha shrugged, "I won, like I've won all of them."

Angela's eyes wavered cautiously, overcome with a feeling of having been led astray. This entire buildup, she'd taken everything as a pretense to this woman feeling something, anything, for her, at the very least in some superficial way. Her heart began to race with nervousness, a far different sort of emptiness overtaking her insides at the thought of what embarrassment she'd surly be in store for once she came back to reality, right underneath the ever-critical tongue of Fareeha.

"Just…" she muttered, fighting back tears, "Just a game..?"

"Just a game," Fareeha repeated, bringing her glass of water up to her lips, staring at Angela from overtop its topmost breadth, only continuing as she finished the remaining contents, "Like how you keep asking me if I need anything. I keep saying I thirst. and you continue to deliberately mistake my meaning."

Angela's eyes returned to life as she suddenly turned her focus to Fareeha, "W-What?!"

"That's what game you've been playing, is it not?" Fareeha asked quietly, her tongue giving a delicate slide along her lips, "You ask me right now, again, if I need anything. I say 'I thirst'. You say 'Still?' because you're playing. You still don't know that I thirst for something far different than drink."

While understanding Fareeha's words, Angela was still very much caught on her insinuation, her own speech catching at her throat as she sputtered, "B-But I wasn't playing any-"

"You're in so far over your own head, princess," Fareeha grinned, shaking her head, "It would be adorable if it weren't so goddamn frustrating."

Angela's brow suddenly crunched low in determination. She stomped over toward Fareeha, who remained sat in place with her wayward arm above her, smirking as Angela came just in front of her, leaving the niveous skin of her thighs right in her view, clashing mightily with the blue material of the skirt she'd been wearing. Fareeha chuckled near mutely at Angela's sudden boldness, though it wavered in time with Angela's hand slowly reaching over to grab it the blue material at its length, ever so delicately lifting it up almost to allow it to cascade along the white of the supple skin beneath her waist.

"Maybe I just need to be over your head for a change," Angela spoke, earning a mischievous grin from Fareeha, though it quickly disappeared as Angela clutched the nearby beam that held Fareeha's arm, leaning forward until those tanned lips were obscured by the fabric of her skirt.

She suddenly felt a shiver run down her body as Fareeha's breath broke against her delicate skin, its heated advance meeting the thin-cut cloth that Angela had worn as an undergarment, the hot, wet air only serving to whet Angela herself as her grip tightened along the beam to steady herself. Her other hand reached down to take a handful of Fareeha's hair once again, tugging in a heated clutch as if to pull her into that space between her legs to end the feverish curling of nerves that broke out along her skin. As much as Fareeha enjoyed toying with her, it seemed so much in character for her to continue much the same, though now, it only served to heighten Angela's frustration as much as her craving.

"Fuck," Angela breathed low with a shallow breath.

She very nearly felt the turning of Fareeha's lips as they spun into a smirk, "Such language from a princess."

Angela's eyes turned down to meet Fareeha's with a sort of dismissive look, "Shut up."

"Hmm," Fareeha mused, "I suppose my lips could be used for something better than teasing."

As she merely returned to more touchless contact, Angela understood her words were just another method for Fareeha to bring her nerves alight. At those words, Angela felt her gut jump in delight, though she was still only wet with anticipation, her hopes of adding Fareeha's saliva to the mix dashed as quickly as they'd arisen.

"F-Fuck, would you just hurry up already?" Angela spoke up lowly, trying to hide the pleading in her voice.

Fareeha's eyes cocked upward toward her, "How many people have you been with exactly?"

Not wanting to sound inexperienced in yet another avenue, Angela stammered, "E-Enough."

"I doubt it," Fareeha spoke in reply, shutting her eyes before placing a rather gentle kiss along Angela's thigh, causing a shiver to shake up her spine, "You shouldn't ever demand quickness. nor allow it, should a partner seek it."

Another kiss. Another shiver. Angela's grip tightened along the beam near Fareeha's side as well as at her hair.

"Your body needs to need this like you'll die without it," Fareeha muttered in explanation, trailing soft kisses up Angela's thigh, forcing a shivering breath from above, "I'm guessing whomever you were with, they were pretty inexperienced themselves."

Angela bit her teeth, now thinking a lying answer might cause the kisses to stop, "M-Maybe."

"Mmm," Fareeha hummed as her puckered lips took to the delicate skin inside Angela's legs, sucking ever so slightly, enough to send shocks along nerves, "You might very well be in over your head then, princess. You might be weeping down here by the time I'm done with you."

A pang of fear shot across Angela's mind for only a brief moment before a gasp escaped her, Fareeha shoving her face against her underwear, planting a kiss into the gentle fissure there as though ascertaining her readiness, though it only managed to take Angela's breath away all the sooner.

"Just a bit more," Fareeha spoke under her breath, though Angela was done with such a game, knowing her words would be repeated next time she performed such a scintillating act.

With a handful of Fareeha's hair, Angela held the stowaway's head still as she dropped her body low, pressing her crotch right atop Fareeha's face, both her lips parting as she gasped in delight at the sensation. She was done with talk. She reached her arm around the beam to keep herself steady before jerking her waist back and forth over Fareeha's face, hollowed breaths escaping her as she stared down into the fierce eyes of Fareeha, who appeared not too pleased with such a sudden act against her wishes.

Still, Fareeha cared little when it came to such a heavenly smothering, the likes of which she hadn't had in quite some time. For whatever reason, even alongside the taste of silken garment, Fareeha recognized a devilishly scrumptious flavor that was Angela's all alone, and as her current partner in this escapade began lustily rubbing her crotch along Fareeha's face, she did little more than adjust her posture to hopefully catch even more of her.

"Ahh… Mmm…" Angela panes gratefully as she received the gratifying tingling that came from her lips running along the subtle ridges at Fareeha's mouth, though as Fareeha lowered her face, Angela felt the unmistakable poking of her nose pressing through her underwear, sending a shock through her body as it made contact with her bud, "Gah! Hah…hah…"

She went on rolling her body up and down Fareeha's face, trying to seek out that pleasurable sensation once more, though in a split second of sexual incapacitation, she felt Fareeha's free hand behind her, having slipping between her legs, Angela biting her lip as narrow eyes stared down toward Fareeha's far more determined pair. Fareeha grabbed the hem of her underwear and with a swift motion yanked at it with enough strength to tear it free, leaving Angela with a heated gasp at the showy demonstration.

She watched with bleary eyes as Fareeha removes her underwear entirely, leaving Amgela with nothing but her silken skirt to keep her covered. Her voice released a sudden whisper as Fareeha allowed her tongue to slither ever so delicately along her lip, catching a purer taste than earlier, forcing a grin across her face. She pulled her arm back and wrapped it around a single one of Angela's thighs, just beneath her waist, pulling Angela's lips into her face as she shut her eyes, now totally in the darkness, accompanied only by the sweet nectar that was now pouring from this woman.

Angela shook with a violent jolt, gasping for breath as Fareeha slid her tongue between her lips, so slowly, agonizingly so, "Ah- AH! F-Fuck, that- Fuck…"

Again, another smile from Fareeha, though with their lips touching, Angela felt the mischievous motion down beneath her. She pulled her hand away from Fareeha's hair, instead grasping at her skirt and pulling it away, now able to stare at the contented face of her stowaway, her tongue now eagerly exploring every inch it could discover within Angela, shooting jolt after jolt of pleasured electricity through Angela's body as she wavered back and forth in ecstasy, anchored only by her arm and Fareeha's hearty tug that pressed the two in such delightful union.

Fareeha's tongue swirled around, dancing its way further and further along the coiling ridges that lined the irrhythmically contracting vein through which so much of her honey escaped, the stowaway taking in as much as she could, her thirst sated by the warm, comforting sweet. As Angela's body turned and twisted above her in jumping ecstasy, her nectar poured in viscous enrapture, leaving Fareeha unable to collect the whole of the offering upon her tongue to lap away at and bring into her mouth, the warmth trickling down her chin as she began to bring her lips together, sucking at Angela's folded lips in an attempt to take in even more, though it only caused Angela even more shivers down her legs, forcing her to jolt back and forth as she desperately clung onto the wavering strength of her arm around the beam to keep her aloft.

Slowly, and with a gentle sucking to accompany it, Fareeha parted from Angela's lips, leaving her gasping with panting breaths like a dog in heat, her voice breaking in lovely disrepair in exchange for the worship occurring down below, "W-Why'd you…"

Fareeha grinned, her eyes peering up toward Angela's sunken head, "How far did you get with this other woman?"

"Ah… Ah…" Angela panted further, thinking I'm extremely loose memory by now, "Th- This was about- about it…"

"Poor child," Fareeha muttered with the shake of her head, "You haven't even greeted the greatest pleasures this world has to offer. You sure you wanna go from three to ten?"

As though not wholly understanding, Angela gave an empty nod in reply, her gaze lost in another world as Fareeha laughed lowly, shaking her head as she returned her eyes to Angela's lips, their folds having broken open like the sweetest smelling rose she'd seen in quite some time, leaving her grinning, "Hold on."

Another weak nod came from Angela just before her voice escaped in time with Fareeha's continuing sucking, only lasting a moment before a massive cry left her breathless, "Hah… Ha- GAH! H-Holy shit!"

Fareeha smirked, her lips trailing along the lonely bud that rested above above where she'd been focused, "Told you."

Angela's eyes went wide with shock as Fareeha returned, her tongue dancing in circles around the swollen appendage, swirling in a whirl as her lips fell around her tongue, sucking so gently as she did so, leave Angela scrambling for control, "Ah! Hah! Mmm, fuck! Fuck! Mmmm!"

She dropped her skirt over Fareeha's head as it flew up toward the beam, her body contorting to the side as she grasped around the beam as though she were giving it a hug, her shaking legs no longer offering her anything in the way of support. Without such worry, her mind fell into the succulent sensations that coursed through her with reckless abandon, the slurping, kissing noises from beneath her only scorching her mind with all the more excitement of the sexual nature.

Suddenly, she felt her gut vacated of all feeling, leaving it an empty space below her stomach that was welling up in time with her quivering bud, her burgeoning orgasm leaving her afright of the unknown sensation she was experiencing, her blanking mind forcing her to abandon any and all attachment to this world. She was only ecstasy and the coiled turning of a wide breadth of tongue that was bringing her into beautiful oblivion.

In a split second, she burst, her arms constricting frightfully along the beam in terror as she lost all semblance of balance or gravity, though Fareeha was quick to tighten her grasp around Angela's thigh as she recognized her impending orgasm. She continued her worship, lapping at the heated liquid that now flooded out from within Angela's tightened entryway, Fareeha desperate to take in all she could of the delicious homey that she'd been so arousingly presented with.

While Angela's mind seemed, to her, to be lost within a vast whiteness for hours, she began to recover in a few moments, her body aquiver with endless ecstasy as she returned to the world of humans, her arms slowly sliding off from around their helpful perch, forcing her body to begin falling backward with nothing to keep her balanced upward. With a graceful slip of her arm, however, Angela freed herself from grasping Angela's leg, instead quickly reaching it around to her back, pulling her forward so that she would fall to her knees before collapsing into Fareeha's chest. She did so with such a weightless tenderness, leaving Fareeha to think she must have been some sort of angel in a past life, though such thoughts were quickly dashed as Angela spoke up weakly.

"F-… Fuck…" she whimpered aloud, happy to be embraced by such warmth before her.

Fareeha grinned proudly, "You aren't the first to say that after my work he been completed."

Angela could only repeat as she continued to shiver with ecstasy, "Fuck…"

This left Fareeha only to chuckle, shaking her head as she wrapped her free arm around Angela in an attempt to keep her warm, "Here. I never take without giving in return. I took your breath, and quite a bit more; now take my warmth and my embrace, however much I can offer of one, though that's more your fault than mine."

Angela might as well not have heard her, or if she did, she certainly would have been unable to understand her words. Between the cold air surrounding her exposed skin and the waning of her glowing orgasm, she hadn't much in the way of thought, save for silent appreciation for how soft and warm her current resting spot was. As her breaths only gradually began to steady, Fareeha reached up to give a gentle stroke of her hair as though to calm her.

"Koriti mou," she mouthed slowly, her Greek allowing her a moment's respite to a simpler time.


	31. A Tale In Afterglow

Angela knew she’d fallen asleep as her eyes began to stir, though her mind wasn’t quite able to put together where she’d done so. It wasn’t until she felt the subtle movement beneath her of a soft body in exhalation that she instantly recalled, her eyes shooting open and her arms flying out in front of her to push away whatever, or whomever, was there, though it only served to suddenly shove herself backward, her arms flailing as she fell onto her back with a _thud_ , her arms quickly shoving herself upright to discover her intruder.

“Ow!” Fareeha shouted as she reached over to rub her chest, “ _That’s_ the thanks I get?! Goddamn; no wonder you’ve only been with so few people!”

Angela’s shouted in reply, “You-! I was just sleebing and-!”

Suddenly wearing a blush from embarrassment, Angela realized just how drained of energy she felt, such a sensation even taking hold of her mouth, resulting in the small bout of slur in her speech. While she was terrified and embarrassed, Fareeha merely offered up a grin as though proud of this woman’s continued affectedness by her own hand, or rather, tongue.

“Oh my, princess; your speech seems as weak as your legs were,” Fareeha chuckled with a smirk denoting such mischief in her teasing.

Angela’s blush ran furious across her face as she tried to pick herself up, though, as Fareeha had predicted, her legs moved, but couldn’t support much in the way of her own weight, leaving Angela with a frown.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Fareeha shrugged, “That’s _all_ on you, princess; it’s not my fault you’re a horny little thing.”

With a still crimson face wearing a frown, Angela barked back, “Y-You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So wry and quick, huh?”

Fareeha grinned, “I did fetch me a nice snack for a while.”

Angela’s blush exploded once again at the insinuation, though as she tried once again to stand, Fareeha sighed, “You’re not going anywhere until you relax for a bit. You’ve got time, it’s not even dawn yet; just calm down.”

“Calm? You want me to be calm?” Angela asked sarcastically, trying to will her legs to bring her up.

Sighing, Fareeha groaned, “You’re quite a bit more agreeable when you’re heated, you know. Look, just- Roll or drag your happy self back over here and have some of these blinis or something; I know you love ‘em.”

At the sudden promise of such a sweet treat, Angela’s head slowly ran her eyes over her shoulder, watching as Fareeha reaches into her crate for a small pouch of the stuff, pulling out one in particular and wagging it in her hand, “C’mon, you’ve got time. Trust me, you’ll do more harm than good trying to force it.”

Angela’s breaths were still hot from anger, though they gradually lessened as she slowly pulled herself around, making her way ever so slightly back toward the stowaway, “I hope you’re happy…”

“Happy about what?”

“Manipulating a poor captain’s daughter with food.”

Fareeha grinned, “I’m not happy about it, but it’s nice to know you’re quite the easy woman to please.”

Angela scoffed as though attempting to maintain _some_ dignity despite her wobbling, “I happen to have quite exquisite tastes, I’ll have you know. What, you think I’m one to be entertained by trifling objects?”

“That explains why you taste so exquisite yourself,” Fareeha notes with a teasing voice, sending a furious blush across Angela’s face, “You’re even easy to embarrass!”

Had she legs, and not had an awaiting pastry, Angela might have immediately spun away and made her way out from the hold, but instead, she merely held her head low with a shaking motion, upset at her ease at being persuaded. Fareeha helpfully facilitated her accompaniment as she helped her over once she was close enough, pulling her up to sit against the wall beside her before offering the blini to her.

“See? Not bad at all; sex ‘n sweets. I’d say you’ve been pretty well taken care of, if I do say so,” Fareeha muttered proudly.

Angela dropped her head, “Can we, just- y’know-“

“You’re not regretting it, are you?” Fareeha asked innocently, her voice lacking any and all malevolence.

“No!” Angela objected clearly, returning to her dreary tone, “I just- I don’t know; I never thought I’d, uh- you know…”

“Ahhh,” Fareeha nodded, her eyes dipping low for a moment as she worked up her next collection of words with a gentle breath, “For what it’s worth, I never thought of you as a cheap little thing. A bit too fun to tease, maybe, but I wouldn’t ever take anyone’s willingness to partake in such a thing with me as anything less as a very heightened respectful thing. Or is this like a body thing? You religious or something? Should’ve waited for marriage?”

Frowning, Angela answered, “N-No, I- I mean, I was raised in a church for some time, but I’m not into all that- obviously, my choice in partners wouldn’t have allowed much-“

“Are you feeling a tad guilty that it felt _so_ good?” Fareeha interrupted with a insinuating curve of her voice, sending Angela into a tizzy.

“No!” Angela exclaimed, “I just- You know…”

Finding her unable to find the proper words, Fareeha took her place in speaking, her voice leaving in a much gentler tone than Angela had ever heard from her, “Just so you know, I don’t treat this sort of thing as cheap, either. I wouldn’t have done any of this if I wasn’t already enchanted by your mermaid-like wet hair or charmed by your inability to take teasing with good humor.”

She grinned, “It’s a nice sort of disarming quality knowing you’re so genuine.”

Angela frowned, taking such a statement as a declaration of her being ‘simple’, “Gee, thanks.”

“What?” Fareeha asked with a teasing sort of tone, “It’s a good thing. For the first moment we spoke, I hadn’t much of any worry about you pretending to be something, or somebody, that you’re not. I don’t think anger or frustration are qualities people often pretend to have, after all; after so much time spent with so many who cower behind veneers and take control of their words to falsely heighten their status- I mean, you never even claimed to know more about being a sailor than I accused.”

Frowning, Angela took a bite of the sweet-tasting pastry, “Maybe if you weren’t such a jerk about it…”

Laughing in reply, Fareeha shrugged, “You know, you’re only the third or fourth person I’ve come across that I hadn’t a worry about your intentions. Lust might be a raunchy sort of motivation, but it’s nonetheless honest. I can respect it, particularly from one such as you.”

She paused as she quietly laughed amongst herself, bringing a blini up to her mouth to eat herself, resting her arm overtop her knee that she’d brought up, staring off into the distance with a nostalgic sigh from her nose. Angela might have been slightly frustrated a moment earlier, but by now, the silence was quite calming, and sure enough, after such a feeling before her nap, and taking in quite the scrumptious delicacy, she couldn’t help feeling, at the very least, contented. The warmth coming off of Fareeha’s body added to the feeling as well, the term ‘afterglow’ not too dissimilar to what Angela felt sitting beside this woman after their too-brief moment of connection.

“What, uh-“ Angela spoke up, quietly, “Who were some of the others? Did you ever, uh...?”

“Make love to ‘em?” Fareeha asked with amusement filling her voice, “Are you wanting to know if this sort of thing leads to being a partner?”

“NO! I just-!”

“I’m not easy to chain down, you know,” Fareeha laughed, “As I’m sure you’ve already gathered. For your information, though, one of them _was_ a girlfriend of mine, back when I lived in Greece for a handful of years.”

She brought herself upward for a moment to readjust herself, unintentionally moving herself further away from Angela, leaving the deckhand feeling just the slightest lack of warmth as the stowaway began to speak again, “Let’s see, Thalia was her name. She was a- Okay, before you know this, you need to know that I used to be in the Egyptian guard as a teenager, so by the time I was living in Greece, I was already sort of a hard woman? In Ilios, there aren’t much of any jobs for women, so to make ends meet, I sort of fought my way into a security council that the city employed to keep its more seedy investments protected; they made a lot of money from their ‘necropolis’ of late-night entertainment. So Thalia was a bartender, and I was kind of a bouncer, I suppose, just making sure things didn’t get too rowdy.”

“I still remember one of my first nights there; she had already caught my eye, but you know, despite beating a guy up to prove my worth, I was still a woman, pretty low on the totem pole, so I was the outstanding professional. Now, we were all trained to know who’s who- let’s say there’s a random gangster trying to flooze a waitress, we beat them up. but there are also gangs who are in good tidings with the city, and we need to know who’s who so we don’t beat up one of _them_ \- _they_ could bend a barmaid over a table and fuck ‘em right then and there and we weren’t allowed to do a thing to stop it.”

“So one night, Thalia was helping clean, and after my shift we got to talking. She was just like you. I mean, she knew she hadn’t much of anything to look forward to in life beyond being a pretty little thing, but she never tried to fool others, or herself, into thinking otherwise. Though, therein lied the problem…”

“At some point, some dude decided to strike up a conversation; I suppose he fancied her. She did as she was supposed to- act interested, all that, but then he reached out as she turned around and smacked her in the ass, with nothing in the way of retaliation from her. I saw it, it pissed _me_ off to no end, yet she didn’t do a thing. This was all she had. All she had in the way of surviving in this world was her body, and it didn’t matter how much _I_ knew how wrong that was -how friendly she was, how kind, how many hours she’d spent learning how to knit elaborate clothing with her grandmother- her body was the only way she could ensure a living.”

Fareeha sighed, shaking her head, “You have no idea how much that all pisses me off. She assured me, so many times, that she was used to being treated like a toy. I began to think that it was fine, at least she was used to it; but then I decided, no, it wasn’t okay for her to be used to it- she shouldn’t have to be _used_ to anything like that. I’m getting furious just thinking about it.”

She shook her head, bringing the last of her bit of blini to her mouth, “Well, this helps, I suppose.”

Angela turned to her, “So, what, is that why you no longer do all that?”

“Kind of,” Fareeha answered, “I tried to turn away and ignore whenever that stuff happened. It hurt so much, you have no idea, especially after we’d started seeing one another after our shifts ended. _My_ living depended on me doing nothing if the wrong man did something to her, and as much as I just about dared to flirt with such a thing as retaliation, she kept telling me, she was used to it, it was fine, just keep my job safe, please, please…please…”

“She cried more and more when we were together,” Fareeha’s voice began to sink, “I think it was nice to her when I was with her. She didn’t have to worry about being a woman, you know? Maybe after a while, it only magnified how horrendous her job was; and the more they took hold of her without warning, the bolder they got toward taking advantage of her inabilities, the more she broke down whenever somebody, me, offered any tiny bit of decency for their fellow man, er, woman.”

Angela’s brow had already curled up in sorrowful reverence before she turned toward Fareeha with curious eyes, “Did you beat them up or something?”

“No,” Fareeha chuckled, “I became a sailor.”

With a sudden turn from the sad to the confused, Angela’s eyes narrowed, “Huh?!”

Shrugging, Fareeha explained, “What? You knew I was a captain! I quit my job and hopped onto a series of fishing trawlers, worked my way up to captain soon enough, and eventually made my way to captaining my own ship, carrying cargo all around the Mediterranean. First thing I did was bring my Thalia aboard; I figured if we couldn’t beat in enough skulls to change Ilios, we’d just make our own little world aboard a ship of our own. Thalia, well, she wasn’t much of a sailor, but she got the hang of enough to be serviceable to the point where nobody’d complain about her tagging along. We actually became sort of a joke around the Mediterranean after I insisted she share my captain’s quarters- that’s when you know you’ve got it made. ‘The Twin Sirens’ they called us; said we were so good at collecting fish because we were practicing their speech and trailing their scent between one another’s legs; there were some other ones, but that one, I always thought, sort of got the point across.”

“Wait, hold on,” Angela insisted, “I thought this was you explaining how you ended up _here_?!”

Fareeha turned to her, “You asked about the other woman, who was my girlfriend, and who also didn’t make me feel wary of their intentions. I’m not gonna give my whole life story after one moment of sex, you know.”

At such continued flagrant insinuation, Angela’s brow curled with worrisome confusion as she spoke up, quietly, “…so is she dead?”

“What?”

“I mean…” Angela paused, mulling over her words, “You’re so open to this kind of thing… This woman sounds like she was so special to you- If this kind of thing is as deep in meaning as you’ve suggested, I don’t know why you’d take me if you two were still able to be, uh…together.”

Fareeha nodded slowly, “Ah. Well, what I can tell you is that I’m a loyal person; I’m like a dog. I’ll starve to be with a lover rather than feast with a baron. Well, there was one time- We had broken up, or at least, I thought we had; I guess she didn’t think we’d done such a thing. So I got with somebody else, and she came back around.”

She smirked with a sudden, proud swirl of her lips, “Turns out I’m the kind of woman some would rather share than give up.”

Fareeha turned to eye Angela, who seemed rather taken aback by her words, clearing her throat and returning to the original question, “I’m loyal, and open enough to sex to share it with you. Draw your own conclusion.”

Angela shrugged, “Okay, okay. I just figured I’d ask; I’d hate to step on anybody’s toes or something. This Thalia just seemed special to you.”

“She was,” Fareeha nodded, “She was.”

Absent Angela’s gaze, Fareeha slid her free hand down toward her side, slipping it into her pocket. There remained her necklace, her hand taking it into her palm, curling her fingers around the bulbous frame of the tiny bottle. She massaged her thumb along the course grooves of its corken lid, swirling the flesh of her thumb along as if contemplating its opening, though she decided against it, simply keeping ahold of the vial-like bottle between her fingers.

“I think that’s dawn,” Angela muttered lowly, her eyes peering up toward the cracks in the hull that allowed just enough of a view toward the sky through grated floors, unable to hide the regret in her voice that she’d be leaving soon enough, “Hopefully I can walk easier now.”

Fareeha grinned, “Unbind me next time. It’d be easier on you if we were more horizontal; then you wouldn’t be forced to stand.”

“Pfft, alright,” Angela scoffed sarcastically, “I’m pretty sure I’m far enough along the path of disobedience; I’ll just dive in completely next time.”

At such humor, directly after such a personal act, Fareeha couldn’t help but chuckle at Angela’s continued brashness, “I’m like a drug, princess. You’ll be back soon enough.”

“Yeah, about that ‘princess’ thing I told you to quit doing,” Angela charged, pushing herself up toward her more stable legs.

Fareeha eyed her with a grin, “It’s only because you’re such a brat sometimes. Would you prefer that?”

“I’d prefer ‘Angela’, quite frankly,” she frowned, “I’ve quite refrained from referring to _you_ as stowaway; I’d enjoy the same courtesy extended my way.”

She turned toward Fareeha, who’d followed her up to a standing position, taking a short step into her chest before raising a hand up to place on her chest, feeling the soft contents of her clothing, which so brutishly concealed such magnificence, “Though, I could see myself starting again, stowaway. It makes me feel as though I have some claim of ownership over you or something.”

“See? Brat,” Fareeha confirmed, before dipping her head low and stealing a kiss.

The two remained with their lips entwined for but a moment before Angela felt a pressure against her own chest, that of Fareeha pushing her away so that she was the one to relinquish such an embrace of delicate skin atop another. At the end of Fareeha’s reach, Angela found the pouch of blini there in offering, Fareeha’s smile as sincere as she’d ever witnessed it.

“Take it with you,” she shrugged, “Don’t worry; they’re not the spicy kind.”

Angela feigned reluctance, but ultimately accepted the pouch, holding it at her side as her arms fell, leaving her staring at Fareeha for but one more moment before turning to leave, offering nothing in the way of words, already knowing they’d be seeing each other again. This was another act that compelled Fareeha to believe in her choice of words to refer to Angela, her lips still spun in amusement as she returned to sitting down, propping her head to the side as her eyes shut, returning to that dream space that she’d so rudely been interrupted from.

The same dream space where she could see Thalia once again.


	32. Captains

The passing days thereafter presented a new feeling for Fareeha as she sat there in the hold, still with an arm strapped back behind her head. Before, it had been merely a bore down here, the incessant silence ringing in her head like some cantankerous white noise, unable to drown it out for fear of having nothing to spark her senses. Then, after the affair with the Hanamura, her books had offered a respite, though it was still a doldrum of an existence down there, much unlike her journeys as a captain herself, commanding her crew and being everywhere at once.

After her night with the captain's daughter of all people, Fareeha found herself, quite often, with the vague feeling of being watched, which, considering what activity Angela had partaken in just above her, it didn't take the former captain much thought to figure who might have had their eyes on her between some wayward strips of lumber surrounding her. She assumed, given Angela's incredibly deliberate lack of knowledge surrounding such things, that the woman was finding this time to peek upon her in some playful show of some strange action, though for Fareeha, it was, ultimately, nothing more than a minor annoyance, particularly when the back of her neck would chill at the feeling.

She found it much more odd that Angela hadn't returned for quite some time, at least in person. Fareeha figured that she might just be saving face in the eyes of the crew- after all, she'd spent a considerable time in the hold, at the behest of Fareeha's own musing lips no less, and might be avoiding the former captain to throw off suspicion, which Fareeha preferred anyway.

The last thing she needed was to be on the bad side of the man currently controlling her fate.

Fareeha passed the time as she'd done before, lost in her books. Her destination being far too vague, she made sure to pack enough novels to lose herself within no matter the distance, particularly since her reading comprehension wasn't exactly stellar. Thalia had taught her something of written English, a form of the language that Fareeha had always found to be rudimentary, and wanting to continue her understanding, she'd brought along a few English books to accompany her Arabic ones, hoping to improve upon the high seas, even catching herself at times quietly repeating phrases, trying to put certain letters to the presumed sounds they created.

Her eyes narrowed in focus as she turned to reach for a primer she'd bought at a marketplace that explained written English, resting her novel in her lap as she leaned over to her crate, sifting through the small stack of ever-thicker books before zeroing in on the correct one, pulling it over and flipping through pages until finding what she was looking for.

"Th-There upon the…" she whispered to herself, finally rolling her eyes as she easily finished the sentence in her head, "Duh."

Reaching up to brush her jet-black hair from her face, Fareeha then slid the primer away, returning solely to her book. Having already worked her way through half of the tale, Fareeha still hadn't ascertained why Thalia had enjoyed it herself so much, almost as if she were deciphering its letters, words, meaning, like Thalia had left her a coded message in the book itself. The obvious idea was that she'd simply left Fareeha a book she'd enjoyed, but by now, the only thing keeping Fareeha interested was the prospect of some insight that might be gained from reading into the read itself.

She went on, her lips trembling with silent sounds that she formed from the words at her eyes, slowly continuing along when her body suddenly shook in surprise from a THUD that escaped from the entryway into the hold, Fareeha's head immediately jolting upward to catch the rectangular space of blackness that stood across the hold, her brow curling with curiosity. It almost sounded like empty glass upon wood from the sound of it, though she couldn't be sure, her gaze remaining in place just to be sure that it wasn't the sound of a visitor, one far less careful than her normal guest.

Fareeha remained steadfast in her careful watch, though her face turned into a look of confusion as none other than the captain of the ship sauntered wearily into the hold, his hand clutching the neck of a wine bottle while his other hand was clasped along the lids of two shallow glasses, their sides rubbing into a pearlescent sort of grinding sound as his steps teetered forward toward Fareeha.

Still unsure of how to take this particular development, Fareeha nonetheless pointed out the obvious, "You're drunk."

Jack grinned, "No, not drunk. I tad sauced, if that, but not drunk."

"Then why are you-"

"I don't think I properly thanked you for what you did; saving my daughter and all," Jack interrupted, his inebriation inevitably impairing his ability to hear the stowaway's words, "I had some of this sugarcane rum left- figured I'd offer you some."

His footsteps wavered as he shrugged, "Besides, what's a drink between two- you were once a captain, correct?"

"That I was," Fareeha answered skeptically, figuring it better to simply go along with the man in charge of whether she lived or died.

Jack nodded, eyeing her wrapped up wrist, "That new knot isn't too tight, is it?"

Fareeha tilted her head in indifference, "I can't tell, anyway."

"Understood," Jack replied, turning his back to the wall beside Fareeha, sliding down carefully until he hit the floor with a relieved groan, "So long as we're helping you out, I doubt you'd try to escape again, but I can't very well take that risk, you understand."

"I do," Fareeha nodded, "You've done plenty in accommodating a stowaway."

Jack gritted his teeth before speaking up, "See- I just don't get that. A captain for crissakes, resorting to being a stowaway."

He chuckled as he readied the two glasses, "You must'a been in some deep shit. Like, deep shit."

"It wasn't my first choice to stow away," Fareeha clarified bluntly, "Just so you know, even respectable people grow desperate."

Jack popped the cork and began filling up a glass half full, handing it to his once-unknown personnel, "I would have taken you to be superstitious, not respectable."

Fareeha grew confused, turning toward Jack who lifted a finger from wrapped around his own glass, tapping below his right eye as he took in a sip of rum. She realized he was referring to her tattoo, returning to her drink and taking an almost unwilling sip of her own.

"Respectable, huh…" Jack muttered under his breath quietly, "Tell me, how does one as respectable as you become a stowaway?"

Fareeha thought for a moment, shrugging, "Extenuating circumstances."

Chuckling at such a vague response, Jack shook his head, "Well you need to drink some more, I suppose, to open up. Come on; what're are a few words between captains?"

He turned a wary stare toward Fareeha, who watched with uncertainty, "We both take the wheel. We both-"

"In your state, I hope not," Fareeha blithely replied, earning a sincere laugh from her interrogator.

Jack shook his head, "No, no; Jesse has the ship at its helm. I'm a captain three hundred and sixty-four days of the year; I can afford to take this single day off."

With a piqued interest, Fareeha turned to speak, though Jack caught her quickly enough, raising his index finger from his glass and sticking at at his lips to quiet her, "Who's asking the questions here?"

Fareeha sighed as her eyes rolled, allowing Jack to chuckle through another swig if his rum, groaning forcefully as the taste overpowered him through his subtle laughter, leaving him tilted forward as he ran his sleeve across his mouth, "Goddamn, that stuff packs a punch if you're not ready. What's the- Oh, it's that old. If I didn't know them to be so kind, I'd have thought we were awarded this with the hope that we'd choke on the stuff."

He shook his head like a dog just in from the rain, sitting the bottle at his side before resting his back against the hill once again, staring up toward the rafters as he rested his glass-holding hand atop his knee, "Just as well. I don't usually drink so much."

Noticing Fareeha's distant glance, alongside her nearly forgotten beverage, Jack asked, "Do you not drink at all? Pretty rare out here."

"No, I do," Fareeha answered, preparing to go on before Jack took the reigns first.

He shrugged, "I never really, you know, enjoyed it. When I first became a sailor, it was all we had to drink, so it was mostly just for sustenance. My wife came along though; she was really the one who got me into the different types of alcohol, trying new stuff. She made it fun, I guess, though I never went out of my way for the stuff. I've watched enough sailors trying to siphon some out of a barrel only to tap turpentine and find themselves dead; I don't usually- Well, only today."

Fareeha's eyes narrowed suspiciously, though, already inebriated, Jack wasn't in the proper mind for tact, simply speaking plainly, "She died today. Em. So I drink to remember her. and forget."

He sighed coldly, his lips turning as his head rolled to the side to eye Fareeha, "Tell me. You ever lose somebody close to you?"

Warily, wholly unsure of this man's knowledge of her and his daughter, Fareeha paused for a minute to ensure her own ambiguity, "Once."

Jack nodded, "Ah. Then you know how empty it makes you feel."

Fareeha felt her brow wane at the man's words, turning to find Jack shivering for a moment as he pulled his glass away from his face, "You know. She, Emmy, she let me name our daughter."

He chuckled, reaching up his free hand to rub at his scraggly chin, a lump running down his croaked throat as he swallowed, "She said she'd given me a child; the least I could give was her name. All those months… Had I any clue of the years I'd have that girl in my life, squandered by my own worry, leaving her home. Y'know, I feel so guilty when I see her doing so well; I feel like I've deprived her of her home for my own sake- god, can she ever tie a slip knot in a moment's notice."

These grumblings of a drunk man might have had little effect of Fareeha had he not been referring to the woman she'd been with not a week or two earlier. She figured that, being a captain at one point, the man might have figured she knew something about discretion, though Fareeha couldn't help but think his motives, even while drunk, were still being withheld.

"Our first nets casted, not a single fish. What a way to begin a journey, I tell you," Jack grumbled, turning a lazy glance toward Fareeha, "They have albatrosses where you sailed?"

"Not many," Fareeha answered before accepting another swig from her own glass.

"They have those superstitions about 'em where you're from?"

Fareeha shrugged, "I'm familiar with them. I wouldn't by them for a harbor dime though."

"Really?" Jack smirked through a chuckle, "I'd have thought by your tattoo there on your face that you'd be quite the superstitious one. You just like the way it looks?"

Fareeha's eyes narrowed, "No. but I'm not superstitious."

"Heh heh," Jack laughed heartily, "You are quite the enigma, you know. No wonder you agree-"

He trailed off as he brought his glass up once again, throwing his head back as he drank the last of the rum, gasping for breath as he returned to normal. He examined the streaking tears of alcohol that slipped toward the bottom of the crystalline glass, his eyes dropping sadly as he did so.

"She'd have loved this stuff," Jack muttered, relinquishing the glass as he sat it to the side, groaning uncomfortably as he adjusted his sitting position, bringing his legs up closer to his chest, "How'd they pass?"

"Pardon?" Fareeha asked, confused.

"The one you mentioned. That died," Jack clarified bluntly, "What, was it a parent? sibling?"

Fareeha treaded carefully, "Lover. Not unlike you and your wife."

As though chuckling at her wording, Jack grinned childishly, "Odd way of putting it."

"Drowned," Fareeha answered, her voice far more stern than it had been, warding off any further questions, "Tried saving one of our peons. Rough waters took 'em both."

Jack shrugged, shaking his head warily as a longing sigh left him, "I'm sorry for your loss. I understand, all too-..,"

His voice trailed, his face contorted in an anguished curiosity, "My Emmy, she was the best deckhand this side of the tropics. Easily the best on my crew."

His fingers curled into the rugged fabric of his pants, "If… If you're in a storm, carrying a load of cargo- the whole ramshackle operation is your entire life. You've got a baby at home. One of the crates gets unwound, it's rolling all over the swamped deck, threatening not only its own contents, but that of every other crate…"

"Your lover volunteers to handle it. They're the best at it," Jack asked with a chill in his breath, seeking confirmation, "Do you send them out there to do so?"

Fareeha silently thought of Thalia, a dread overcoming her as she visualized the captain's dilemma. She knew the answer, though she couldn't be sure which one this man, the one controlling her fate, was seeking for himself.

"I don't," Fareeha muttered quietly.

A short kind of chuckle left Jack as he lowered his head, shaking it regrettably from side to side, "Heh… It's torture to think I made the wrong decision."

"Just because I'm too weak to let go," Fareeha noted quietly, her eyes rising up to watch Jack's dim profile, "That doesn't make my decision the right one."

Jack shut his eyes, his fingers tightening along the top of the empty glass in his hand, thinking so cryptically of that frigid night so long ago that still so marred his mind. Those rushed steps of his wife as she dashed off into the darkness upon deck; her visage disappearing off the edge of the very ship he kept in shape. Their own wooden kingdom.

"I know you've been giving my daughter food," Jack muttered, sending Fareeha into a cold sweat as she nervously lowered her torso forward almost as if to bury herself within her lap.

Jack's eyes grew glazed, "I saw her eating on some pastries that we never brought aboard. I don't know if you're intending to bribe her, or if the two of you are simply carousing down here, but I know Angela has been sneaking down here to see you."

Fareeha felt cotton balls settling in her throat as her mouth began to dry at the fear welling up within her, rendering her unable to speak. Her wrist tensed up at the rope that kept her bound, though she suddenly froze as Jack turned to stare at her with a piercing gaze.

"I know nothing about you, save for the fact that you've left enough trouble behind you. Trouble that turned a woman like you desperate enough to stow away on my ship- on this ship that my wife and I built our lives upon. And in the face of my wife's work, I wouldn't dare allow my daughter to fall into such trouble."

Jack returned to watch the ground and he lazily worked his way up to his feet, grabbing at his empty glass with his free hand as the other clutched the empty bottle, turning to Fareeha as he stood on unsteady footing, "Look at me."

Fareeha did so, slowly.

"I don't want you two seeing each other. At all," Jack spoke coldly.

Fareeha couldn't find the will to reply, the gravity of the situation strickening her with a fear that ran like a tourniquet within her chest as she sat there. Jack walked slowly toward the exit, knowing how drunk he was, carefully taking his steps and grappling onto whatever object allowed to him within arm's reach. Her head lowered, Fareeha couldn't help but think she'd somehow escaped some regretful fate, feeling a shiver running down her spine as she took a-

"But I know my daughter," Jack suddenly muttered, clutching onto a crate in the middle of the hold, as though his body was too heavy a weight to carry, Fareeha's head slowly rising to stare at the man in such a ghostly silhouette.

"I know she'll return to see you. no matter what I tell her," Jack sighed, shaking his head, "She's always been so easily caught by flights of fancy and mystery."

His clutch tightening to hold himself steady, Jack turned in place, watching Fareeha with dim-lit eyes, "Just promise me. When you step foot off of this ship- you'll know to let go. It's better for her."

Fareeha felt the glance of a man so far along the path between his grasps of both reality and of whatever world his deserved wife resides within. It was such a distant expression, held onto by such cold, lost eyes.

Slowly, and quietly, Fareeha nodded, "Promise."

Jack replied with a nod of his own, raising his empty glass toward Fareeha before sloppily murmuring, "Capt'n."

With that, the older man returned to his pace, cautiously making his way toward the open doorway of the hold, vanishing into the darkness with a wobbling gait until Fareeha was left alone, with nothing but her crate and the nearly-empty glass in her hand, her eyes now narrowed in contemplation.

Carefully, she sat the glass down, pushing it away at the tips of her fingers until it was out of reach, it's viscous, liquid contents sloshing around wildly in time with the movement even as she returned her hand to her lap. The rum had suddenly lost its taste, she realized, only feeling the bitterness that now rested upon her tongue.

The man had already offered enough without having brought her any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do sincerely apologize for my lengthy absence. Work has been hectic with the holidays, and a promotion (!), and alongside that, P5D came out, so I have to finish P3 so I can play P3D, and then Let's Go Eevee is a thing (that I don't particularly care for D:) but then Smash Bros. Ultimate is a thing (that I DO like D:) and Spider-Man DLC will be a thing- there's just so many things!
> 
> Plus, I've just been generally burnt out when it comes to writing, which I suppose is to be expected after two years of writing fan-fiction almost non-stop xD Even this chapter, for such an important scene in the story, I can't help but feel it's slightly 'bleh', but hopefully that's just a result of my burned-out-ness; it just seems a bit uninspired :( So don't be surprised if I redo this later, or any future chapters for that matter (of course, I'll notify you guys in the notes here.
> 
> In any case, I do appreciate and adore any of you who have been waiting for this story's conclusion- I hate being left on cliff-hangers myself, so I hate to have left you all on one, but hopefully I'll be able to get the rest of this out :D We're on the final stretch, sort of, so at nearly 300 pages, it's been a fine little story to write, and I hope I can do its ending justice for you all reading this :)
> 
> Thank you, so very much, for reading :)


	33. Language Barrier

Even with the light having disappeared, Fareeha had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that night had fallen until the bitter chill of the cold wood at her back had bitten her skin, sending a frown across her face as she adjusted herself, hiding the exposed portions of her skin behind her coat. Her hand curled into a fist as she pushed herself further upright, getting further comfortable with a groan before returning her fist to her lap, opening her fingers as she stared instantly at the small vial that hung at the end of her necklace, thinking of a lost love.

Her thumb ran along its corken lid, forming a subtle groove within her skin long it's sudden edge, her finger swirling absently as her mind wandered further. For all the nights she'd spent on any one side of Thalia, she knew all to well that the vial in her hand held the truest from of love Fareeha had ever expressed to any one person, a thought that, at once, comforted and frightened her.

Lifting the empty bottle in front of her face, she shook it ever so slightly, earning nothing from its non-existent contents, though at the same time, it somehow allowed a slight wave of calm along Fareeha, though her face remained with a slight sadness to it.

"You okay?" came a sincerely feminine sort of voice from nearby, yanking Fareeha from her spell as she quickly snagged the vial into her hand and flew her fist into her pocket, noticing Angela with a start.

"The- Why do you keep doing that?!" Fareeha asked, more in nervousness than anything.

Almost offended at the insinuation, Angela crossed her arms with a flurious spurt of incredulity, "Hey, you were looking right at me. I was just doing my duty as a host and making sure you hadn't gone stir-crazy or anything down here. I don't need to know much about anybody to know that kind of look on their face."

"What look..?" Fareeha questioned, burying her head toward her chest as she shoved her necklace back into her pocket, trying to hide her sullen expression.

Carefully, Angela took a moment of silence to attempt to ascertain her stowaway's mood, debating whether or not to make a case out of this, though she merely spoke quietly, taking the chance for heartfelt conversation, "I dunno; kind of sad almost."

Fareeha rolled her eyes, her head still hidden, though more due to Angela's accuracy than her being incorrect, "Just-…"

She trailed off, leaving Angela to drop her arms and walk on over toward Fareeha, dropping into a cross-legged spot in front of the former captain as if she were wanting to study her. She brought her hands into her lap, holding onto something that Fareeha couldn't make out between Angela's two sets of fingers, though the captain's daughter spoke up soon enough, leaving Fareeha unable to make out the object's shape.

"Did you get that necklace for her?" Angela asked quietly.

Fareeha smushed her lips together in disinterest, much rather preferring to bark back in reply and drive this woman away, though she couldn't help but feel a tug at her chest at such a thought. Somewhere between Angela's sincerity and their prior experiences together, Fareeha found some space to open up, if only slightly.

"If you must know, then yes, sort of," Fareeha answered with slight defiance.

Angela's eyes went crooked, "Sort of?"

"Look, you wanna make a case out of it?" Fareeha accused, "I answered the question for you, what else do you want to know?"

Angela shrugged, "Nothing, really. I suspected as much already, but- Had I known it meant so much to you, I wouldn't have toyed with it like I did."

A pull came to her lips as she apologized, "I mean, I'm sorry to have used it like some trifling thing."

Fareeha's downcast eyes lifted just enough to catch Angela's own distant face, the woman sighing as she replied warmer than she had been, "It's nothing. You didn't know; I didn't tell you."

"But it is," Angela suddenly retorted, "Had I a clue you had somebody else, I wouldn't've-"

"Angela," Fareeha interrupted forcefully, "There is no Thalia. Not anymore. You have nothing to feel guilty about."

Her face having opened up in a shocked expression, Angela retorted, "What?!"

"Thalia died," Fareeha confirmed, somberly, "I guess I forgot to mention that last time."

"You think?!"

Fareeha shrugged, "I told you I'm loyal. So long as there's nobody to be loyal to, I haven't a care upon whom I kiss, or where I do so. What kind of woman did you think I was?"

Still slightly reeling from the sudden news, Angela asked, "H- What happened to her?"

Groaning with impatience, Fareeha rolled her eyes, "Look, as much as I'd love to regale you with such stories, I've got books to read down here. Better stories than I have to offer, at that."

She reached over toward the stack of books that sat in the lantern-light, picking them one by one to show them off as she rattled off the titles, "Let's see, there's Eliot Tidson's 'Dodger's Jolt'. I've got Fieldmann's 'Geraldina & the Crow'. Even some of Laura's Vicham's 'Guides to English Reading Comprehension'- I got it all. Now, if you'd allow me to read these in peace, this voyage will be far more-"

Fareeha suddenly paused, unable to decipher the strange look upon Angela's face, her own eyes curling suspiciously, "…what?"

"Reading?" Angela asked with a subtle smirk on her face.

Fareeha rolled her eyes, "Shut up. and get on outta here; you know you're not supposed to be down here in the first place."

"Hasn't stopped me before," Angela muttered with a glibly childish tone.

"Yeah, but-," Fareeha paused, raising her head over Angela's shoulders to examine the entrance before giving a cursory glance up toward the floor above, "-I think, this time, your captain means it. I was about to have a heart attack when he told me he knew you were-"

"He what?!" Angela nearly shouted, recoiling in horror.

Fareeha nodded a serious face, "He came down here, basically telling me that he knows you're sneaking down here and that you kind of have to shut that shit down, alright? Seriously, I don't need a fuckin' drowning."

She quickly began to grasp for another package of blini, waving it at arm's length in front of Angela's face, "Now shoo! Get outta here!"

At Angela's impotent movement, Fareeha grumbled, sticking a hand into the sack and tossing a flurry of the flat cakes toward the entryway, the lot of them landing with little more than a poof, "Go on! Get!"

"Why would he leave you down here, then…" Angela wondered aloud, her voice nearly a whisper.

Fareeha quickly shrugged, "Well I kinda saved your life; that alone gives me some points, but I'm not trying to expel them all! Have you any idea what he'd do to me if he found out what we've-"

"But he was so insistent early on…" Angela murmured once again.

"He was also a bit drunk!" Fareeha explained, rather desperately, "I'm shocked I don't have glass in my skull from him pelting me with that bottle of his!"

Angela's eyes lit up, "Hold on- drunk? This was on mother's… Oh."

"Yeah!" Fareeha went on, "And I don't-!"

"You think he even remembers?"

"Angela!" Fareeha pleaded, yanking her wrist against her bounds, "That- Man- Controls- My- Fate! I'm not trying to piss him off!"

With a wry grin, Angela shrugged, "You weren't this insistent before…"

"Well, one, I took you at your word that you'd be good at hiding out meetings. How the fuck did he find out?" Fareeha chided before her voice suddenly grew lower, "And, two, that was kind of before we fucked!"

Angela pouted, "So? I'm an adult; I can be with whomever I want."

"Not on your father's boat you can't!"

Crossing her arms, Angela suddenly explained, "Okay, so we just ignore that. What's that- You're trying to learn to read? Let's just say I decide to help teach you in exchange for you saving my life?"

Fareeha frowned, "How thin are you wanting his patience drawn?"

"Come on," Angela concluded alone, scooting closer and taking a hold of the comprehension book Fareeha had presented earlier, "You're not going anywhere. We've got the votes, remember? Besides, father's not going to overboard the woman who saved his daughter. That's not who he is."

Groaning with a pained expression, Fareeha uttered unsurely, "Are you absolutely positive..?"

Angela's eyes went wide in confusion, "I'd like to think my life is worth saving in my father's eyes!"

"That's not what I- You know what, do with me as you will; I'm just tired of worrying about my life," Fareeha sighed, shaking her head begrudgingly, "Just make sure it's quick and painless."

A soft, near-hidden giggle escaped Angela as she pushed herself toward the hull to prop herself up, opening up the book, "I don't know about that if you're trying to learn how to write in English. Most everybody I come across says it's pretty difficult compared to other languages."

"Lovely."

Angela skimmed through the early pages, murmuring, "How'd you learn one and not the other, anyway?"

"I've picked up a little of a lot of languages- that's just what happens when you sail with everybody under the sun. Some crews speak English, others Spanish, Italian; you just pick it up soon enough. usually starting with the curse words," Fareeha explained, rubbing her two hands up and down her face, "I can't believe you know I can barely read."

"Hey, I didn't know how to read once," Angela assured with a smile.

Eyes rolling, Fareeha shot back, "Yeah, what, when you were six years old?"

"I'll have you know, I'm rather proud of my rabble-rousing," Angela maintained with a haughty voice, "I wouldn't sit still at that age, and my tutors had a ghastly time trying to teach me much of anything. It didn't help that they wanted me reading Latin junk, as if that would help me learn English. Ms. Forster hadn't a clue that English has about as much Greek in it than Latin, and she spoke it!"

"Greek?" Fareeha asked, "Then katalavéno."

Unamused, Angela turned to her stowaway, "Now don't you start. Look here-"

She found a nearby pencil, scraping off the sharp end with her fingernail just to give it a finer point, and carefully wrote on one of the book's margins, "See, here's 'pharmacy'- you know, those chemists? That has 'ph' making the 'f' sound; that's from the Greek letter 'phi', the circle with the vertical-"

"I know what 'phi' is," Fareeha interrupted, drolly, though still unable to hide her interest as she leaned closer to watch Angela write down the word 'pharmakeia', "Hold up. It's that simple?"

"Only in so few cases," Angela explained with a shrug, "English is still a hodge-podge of everything, really. But you might have a grasp on a bit of it just by knowing Greek."

Fareeha nodded in understanding, leaving Angela to turn her head, trying to eye an empty sheet of paper lying around, "I, of course, have learned from my life experience. I won't leave you reading boring stuff like-"

She reached for a nearby book, catching its title, "Chaucer? C'mon."

"Thalia gave me that book…" Fareeha muttered in reply.

"Like I said, a great read!" Angela clarified in a rush, carefully returning the book to its rightful spot, "In any case, I'll make sure you have the proper reading material to learn from. Pertinent phrases, important words to look out for, all that. You have anything in mind you'd like to know in advance?"

"Moira."

Angela's head rose quick in surprise, her eyes narrowed as she gazed at Fareeha in confusion. She knew it to be a name, not a word, though she hadn't recalled a single instance where Fareeha might have revealed the person's identity. At the sudden intrusion of some other bit of Fareeha's past, Angela was left slightly dumbfounded, earning an impatient stare from her new student.

"How would I see 'Moira' written?" Fareeha clarified, as though Angela hadn't caught it the first time.

"O-Oh," Angela stammered, returning her attention to the book's margin at the absence of a loose sheet of paper, "Uh, like this."

She wrote the name out, much to Fareeha's interest, her tanned hand reaching over to pull the book closer so as to give her a better look. She critiqued it for a few moments, her eyes gradually squinting with focus until, finally, she relinquished her hold on the book, sighing with slight relief, confusing Angela all the more.

"I don't recall ever seeing that before," Fareeha explained, completely oblivious to her own ambiguity that immediately caught Angela's curiosity.

"Is that…good? or bad?" Angela asked.

Fareeha nodded, "It's good."

At that, Fareeha went quiet, leaving Angela to focus on writing down sentences, though she couldn't help but steal glances toward the woman beside her. For all the progress she'd made toward understanding this woman, she was just now realizing just how truly vast her history was, a fact that more upset Angela than anything else, knowing she wasn't making much progress when it came to understanding Fareeha. Still, Angela remained diligent, the very idea of her helping Fareeha with anything, much less one of her embarrassing faults, bringing some sense of closeness to this person that so captivated much of Angela's thoughts since the two of them had met.

"You've been down here for weeks, reading," Angela pointed out absently as she remained writing as neatly as she could, "How've you gotten through so much?"

Fareeha shrugged, "I read what I can. Everything else, I have dictionaries and stuff."

She went on with a smarmy sort of grin, "Never underestimate self-sufficient people. We get stuff done without others even knowing it."

"I suppose," Angela replied half-heartedly, "I mean, I could've helped if you'd asked. I guess you were busy making my ventures down here as infuriating as possible at that point in time."

Fareeha grinned, "You make it sound so miserable. I happened to have had a fun time with it all. Besides, considering where it all lead, at that pent up frustration-"

"It led to me discovering your illiteracy and teaching you to read?" Angela mused with a smirk, catching Fareeha's stare with a sense of pride, "Hey, you started it."

"I also ended it," Fareeha replied with a quick lick at her lips, though Angela seemed unfazed by the action, simply returning to her writing, leaving Fareeha unsatisfied, "Hey!"

Angela shrugged, barely managing to conceal her own upturned lips, "I haven't a clue what you mean. That is, I understand that you're the sort of woman that hates for your prolonged work to go unappreciated, or worse, unknown. Perhaps I just haven't noticed."

Catching Angela's attempts at baiting her, Fareeha kept herself composed, "I bet you think you're so smart, huh, Princess?"

"Who's teaching whom?" Angela retorted.

Biting her lip, Fareeha was taken aback by the response, ultimately groaning, "Fine. I happen to be rather proud of the things I am good at. There's not much of 'em to begin with. So what?"

"You're certainly good enough at keeping secrets," Angela muttered, catching Fareeha off guard, "Are you proud of them?"

"Pfft," Fareeha scoffed, "I hardly know you. Were you wanting my whole life story? I already told you about Thalia, which is crazy enough of me to begin with. What, were you wanting the tale of my first lost tooth? My first time on a boat? Maybe-"

She had turned toward Angela in her incredulity, though he eyes trailed down Angela's arms toward the book in her lap, catching the name 'Moira' still exposed where Angela had written it down, leaving Fareeha aghast with humor, "Wait, you think- Are you jealous?!"

"Jealous?!" Angela questioned, "Of what, some lover from your past? Why, because hers was the first thing you wanted to know how to write down?"

Fareeha chuckled with awe, "You really have no idea, Princess."

Such condescension only increased Angela's frustration, her hands quickly shutting the book and dropping at at her side before she stood up in a huff, shaking her head angrily, "I just can't believe you."

"It's not my fault you've such thin skin," Fareeha shrugged, "If you weren't so cute while angry, I wouldn't bother teasing you so much."

Angela didn't halt her exit, stomping across the hold as Fareeha sighed, making her subtle plea, "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. Come on; I truly do appreciate your help."

Pausing, Angela turned around to reveal a frown, her eyes like daggers upon Fareeha as she spoke up cooly, "Moira or that necklace. You want me to help, you have to tell me the story about one of those things."

Fareeha's bright face quickly darkened, her lips disappearing as they pulled inward in suspense, her mind suddenly railing, legitimately weighing the idea of refusing and sending Angela off. Angela knew she was wading into dangerous waters, especially given Fareeha's being taken aback, though she was legitimately curious, and after having been rebuffed for so long, she was prepared to push the issue. It wasn't as if her stowaway were going anywhere soon.

After a thickeningly tense silence, Fareeha finally acquiesced with a heavy breath from her nose, shaking her head while her hand disappeared into her pocket, muttering to herself all the while with an annoyed voice, "I swear… I warned the little-"

"Okay," Fareeha interrupted herself with a start, holding up the small vial strung up on the chain of a necklace, "There's no turning back if I tell you about this."

Angela nearly pouted at Fareeha's implication that she might not be ready to hear this, replying sullenly, "I've come down here how many times without turning back while on the way?"

"Just warning you," Fareeha shrugged, lowering her head toward her necklace, her eyes gazing through the empty vial.

With bated breath, Angela watched Fareeha tinker with the tiny bottle, a sad expression crossing her face as her breathes slowed the more in thought she fell, "Do you believe in the supernatural?"

Angela's eyes narrowed in suspicion as Fareeha's fingers closed in around the end of her necklace, her eyes slowly crawling up to meet Angela's own pair.

"Thalia's in here," Fareeha muttered quietly.


	34. Ties That Bind

Tiff and Vincent were hurriedly crouching down to collect the collection of backwash into their buckets, lifting up their bodies to toss the water overboard, the repeating process leaving their backs aching until they had to stand for a moment just to ease the sensation. The two men were newcomers to the Raptora, a small seafaring vessel that skimmed the Mediterranean under the eye of Fareeha Amari, collecting fish to sell at ports to make due, but also engaging in other flights of fancy, such as stopping off near Algeria in order to find old, buried, Carthaginian treasures, mostly to little avail.

Tiff was older, but more wily than his current counterpart, Vincent, who had made a career out of shutting up and simply doing what he was told. The two of them had been picked up in Italy, after the men they were replacing had hopped onto the harbor the first chance they got, and it didn't take long for these two to understand why that might have been.

"Who in their roight mind takes a ship 'n run it through a waterfall?!" Tiff grumbled, his aged back creaking with every twist and turn at his torso, "I tell yah, kid, that b'rd 'n charge on this ship- she's flyin' by the seat o' her pants!"

Vincent grinned, "Oh, come on old timer; at least there's never a dull moment on here. The last ship I was on, a trawler, it was nothin' but eat, sleep, fish; all day, every day. It's more bearable when there's no routine."

"Boy! There ain't s'posed ta be any water on a ship!" Tiff cried angrily, standing upright to straighten out his back, a flurry of cracks breaking the air, "'n don't think I don't know what yer  _really_  thinkin', boy. You make eyes at that red 'ead 'n were both in the slammer,  _or worse_."

"Wh-! I'm offended at such an accusation!" Vincent assured eagerly, "Those two have been nothing but generous! I wouldn't dare have anything unprofessional in mind!"

Unconvinced, Tiff grumbled to himself as he continued throwing water from the deck, "You darned whipper-snappers. I can't believe I had ta run inta you of all people, offerin' me a-"

"Just sayin'," Vincent interrupted, his mind currently vacated within an absent-minded imagination, "That red head- what, Thalia? As generous as she is, she's just as plenty generous to the eyes."

"She also can't tie a slip knot ta save 'er life!" Tiff complained with a ragged voice, "I had ta go along aft'r 'er the other day 'n correct all the crap she was messin' up. I don't know how she got along this ship; she must be screwin' tha captain 'r somethin'."

Vincent frowned, "Oh come on, old man."

"You're blinded by yer own stupid eyes. Perks o' being young, I s'pose," Tiff grumbled with his own rolling eyes, "I tell ya though; I'm  _this_ close ta jumpin' ship- now I see why we're replacin' people; nobody stick around once they see 'em steering through waterfalls 'n going out inta the Atlantic Just ya see some goddamned dolphins! This 's a pleasure cruise, not a ship."

"Yeah…" Vincent sighed with whimsical eyes, "Pleasure cruise…"

Tiff eyed the young man with piercing eyes, "I'm tellin' ya ya quit that 'n-!"

"Hello boys," came a voice from behind them, causing the two to recoil in surprising, spinning around to find their captain, Fareeha Amari, approaching in stride, her tawdry pauldrons upon her shoulders signaling the lack of seriousness she had for her post, "How's is going?"

"F-Fine, Captain!" Vincent stammered nervously as he looked up toward Amari, praying silently that Tiff wouldn't continue his tirade, "We're just making due time gettin' all this water outta here!"

Amari chuckled with a childish air, reaching a hand to the back of her scalp to scratch her suddenly-itchy head, "Yeah, sorry about that. We were wanting to see the Saint Luca up close, but we kinda got  _too_ close there for a moment. Thanks for helping out like this."

Vincent was quickly to reply positively, though Tiff continued working, mumbling quietly to himself as Amari went on, "How's life aboard the Raptora treating you? It's been a week or so and neither of you have scrambled into the sea to escape."

Tiff quickly stood up, but before he could complain, Vincent was quick to interject, "Y-Y-Yeah, it's been great! I can't think of nothin' to find unbearabke!"

"Good, good," Captain Amari nodded to herself, turning to Tiff, "How about you? You look worse for where now that I get a look at you."

Vincent felt a tingle rush down the length of his spine as Tiff's shoulders rolled in preparation for his reply, his steely face coiling as he muttered, "I'm doin'."

"Just "doin'", huh?" Amari asked with distaste, looking off into the distance as she held her hands to her hips, "Well, as of now, you two make up half the crew, so I would like to know that you two are doing well. I pride myself on being totally open with my crew, though that sort of has to work both ways, y'know?"

"Totally open," Tiff grumbled, "Might explain why ya had crewm'n jumpin' ship soon as you hit port."

Amari rolled her eyes dramatically, wearing a grin, "Nah, they were just scared. We're usually light on crew, so we try to bring anybody aboard- often times they join up so fast they don't realize they're having to answer to a woman."

Her lips spun into a smirk, "That intimidates some men, y'know?"

"Oh, not me, Captain!" Vincent assures hurriedly, "I haven't an issue taking orders from anybody!"

Amari nodded approvingly, "Good. It's always nice to-"

"Not like I was gonna make it much nowhere else in life," Vincent continued with a sardonic chuckle, "I'm totally fine bein' a life-long follower!"

Slightly perturbed, Amari nodded slowly, "Gotcha. Well, as long as you two're good- If your men know what they're doing, let them be I say. Find me if either of you need anything, alright?"

"Yes, Captain!" Vincent shouted aloud, earning an appreciative nod from Amari before she turned to walk away.

Vincent gave a sigh of relief, though he quickly wore a look of panic as he noticed Tiff's increasingly annoyed face, the younger of the two quickly growing nervous of this old man's intentions. He quickly reached over to grab hold of Tiff's shoulders, pulling him away ever so gently.

"C-Come on, old man; let's not upset the Captain!" Vincent pleaded with a desperate voice, "Let's just get this done 'n-"

"What about tha red 'ed?" Tiff asked aloud, stopping Ameri in her tracks.

She half-turned to face him, a sincerely look of confusion on her face as she replied, "Pardon?"

Vincent felt a wave of nausea, quickly turning away to duck down and continue dumping the water as Tiff grumbled louder, "That other woman. She ain't carryin' her own weight on this ship; even I know that! I had ta' follow 'er down every line 'n fix her mistakes! I know yo're laid back, but one of those knots don't slip, ya lookin' at the whole beam swingin' around, hittin' skulls! It's dang'rous!"

Amari's face had darkened, her legs carrying her closer toward Tiff as he went on, "I fancy tha real reason people 're leavin' is 'cause ya prefer tha fun 'n nothin' else. You'd rather take ya 'totally open' policy ta bed rather th'n be 'n  _actual_  captain."

Tiff's face trembled angrily as he poured out his anger, though it did little to change Amari's stony face. She eyed him with darkening eyes, her bottom lip twisting as she bit at it from within her mouth, mulling over what course of action to take.

"I'm not a murderer," she clarified, darkly, "So I'm not gonna throw you off this ship right this second. Secondly, consider yourself lucky I don't tie your tongue into a knot- it would make the rest of this trip far more agreeable for myself, I assure you."

Amari lifted a single finger, pointing toward the old man, "Now get back to work. I don't want to hear another word about the personnel on  _my_  ship. Trust me, there's plenty I'd have to say about  _you_  right this second. Unless you want to drown in your floaties, I suggest you do as I say."

Tiff's eyes shot back toward his captain's with a stubborn gaze, no words being spoken by him as Amari turned once again to leave, speaking up over her shoulder, "Back to work, you two."

With a growing fire from within him, Tiff's lips began to curl in disgust, leaving Vincent to wrap his two hands against the old man's shoulder with a wary shiver, pulling him back toward his bucket, stammering nervously, "C-C-Come on, man; let- let's just make it back ta port before we're here without somebody who knows how to pilot this thing!"

The thought of impending trouble translating into a nervous twitch at his right eye, Vincent pleaded as he picked up the bucket and held it against Tiff's chest, "Ju- Just make it back 'n- C'mon, I'll give you a portion of my paycheck! Just don't- don't cause trouble! Please!"

A displeasing grumble left Tiff as he angrily grabbed hold of the bucket, turning back toward the layer of water that still remained aboard the deck, cursing under his breath as he crouched low, cracking his spine as he did so. Vincent watched for a moment with a slight sigh of relief before joining alongside him, shaking his head at how crazy this trip had already begun, knowing he only wanted to get off this ship alive.

* * *

Hours had passed. Amari pulled her coat over her shoulders as she rounded the corner inside the ship, heading for her quarters as she yanked at its front ends until it started to fit right once again. She sighed under her breath as she tried to drown out her annoyance from her earlier conversation with her two new crewmen, shaking her head at their words, even if it pained her far too much knowing that the old man was correct.

She had exhausted so much of her own resources simply to making the ship as simple as possible to maintain or work, which only served to confuse any and all newcomers, but which also didn't seem to help much at all. Not that Thalia's heart was in the wrong place- Amari knew it pained her lover as much as it did her that she was oftentimes the wrong cog in a wheel, forgetting important steps in even more important actions, misunderstanding directions, or even becoming unaware of scheduled things needing to happen. Amari learned, quick enough, that despite Thalia's purely determined heart, she'd found the poor woman working in a tavern for a reason.

For all the hours spent trying to help Thalia understand different mechanics aboard the Raptora, nothing seemed to stick. Like an artist attempting to understand algebra, Thalia's mind just didn't seem able to grasp so much of the ship, even if Amari did everything, and more, to give her lover an ever-easier ship to run. Still, Thalia did try, sometimes to Amari's annoyance, sometimes taking such attempts to gain understanding to extremes.

Amari reached into her pocket, fishing for the key to her quarters, her coat jerking around as she fiddling within its depths, finally pulling the ring of keys from the coat she'd still found so unfamiliar. She then had to fiddle with the lock in the dark, managing to find the correct key and unlocking her way into her room, the keychain ringing its high-pitched racket the entire time, leaving Amari with a groan, her long day apparently not going quietly into the night.

Stepping into the dark room, her eyes adjusted to the darkness well enough as she turned to lock the door behind her, returning to find a lengthy form upon her bed. Her brow furrowed with curiosity, having never seen Thalia totally buried beneath the blankets, hiding her sleeping head from her lover's arrival, though she figured there was a first for everything, moving on from the idea as she threw her shoulders back to lose her captain's attire, throwing it lazily onto the wooden floor beside her desk.

She peered down toward her shirt, watching her fingers fiddle around with the buttons, watching as the crease beneath its fabric gradually increased into her unsightly-sized bosom, a frown escaping her at the thought of all her work back home having left her with such an undesirable body, even though the thought of Thalia's touch lessened such ideas.

As she removed her shirt, Amari's frown remained as she reached up to undo the poorly-made fabric of her bra, a wave of dismay washing over at the sight before her until she finally surrendered her self-critiquing, simply making her way to her side of the bed, losing her washed-out pants along the way before climbing into bed beside Thalia's still body, greeted by such heavenly warmth as she slid between the layers of blankets.

Amari lay there, still, though having little thought of actually falling asleep anytime soon. Instead, her eyes shifted toward Thalia, wondering how long her partner would wait before continuing on with whatever she must have been up to before she'd walked in. She knew Thalia had been awake, probably up to something to Amari's dismay by how she'd pulled her blankets up to cover every inch of her. As ill-suited to ship work as Thalia was, she was obviously quite as ill-suited toward secrecy.

Soon enough, the light of a bedside lantern began to flicker, only slightly at first, but soon it began to glow with a lazy brightness, just enough to accompany the woman who'd turned it on. Amari felt the sheets curling down toward the foot of the bed, stopping just as it's breadth uncovered Thalia's head and shoulders, the bed shifting gently with whatever movement Thalia was making as she lay there on her side, unaware of the slight glance from her captain and lover.

Amari lifted herself ever so gently, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was Thalia was doing just over her shoulder, though the coils of the mattress betrayed her, a slight pressure hitting across from her as Thalia dropped her hands onto the bed in defeat.

She groaned, "Yes?"

Amari replied easily, "Just seeing what's keeping you up. Usually it's me, so I was confused."

Thalia failed to reply, leaving Amari with nothing more than speculation as she rose up, gazing over the softened skin of her lover's arm, frowning at the sight just beyond her olive skin, "You heard…"

"Yep," Thalia muttered lowly, "Every word."

Groaning, Amari reached up to rub her face, "I shouldn't be shocked. Old man's yelling could work the ears off of a statue."

Despite being found out, Thalia brought up the two footlong strands of rope and continued trying to tie a slip knot, remaining silent as her mind tried to work out how to accomplish such a thing. Amari allowed only a moment of regret to well up within her before reaching over her hand to hold Thalia's bare arm, causing a flinch throughout her lover's body.

"Quit," she muttered, "You're ruining my concentration."

" _You_ quit," Amari countered, "Its however late. You shouldn't be concentrating on anything more than a good night's sleep."

Thalia turned her head over her shoulder, "I heard what they said. I'm not going to be a hindrance to anybody; especially to you."

"Who said you were a hindrance to  _me_?" Amari questioned, confused, "That old man's a fool. You couldn't ever be anything of a hindrance to me."

Her voice lowering, Thalia muttered, "I know I'm no good on this ship. It's been a year or two and you're still having to show me how to do things; how not to screw up. Faree-"

Amari's tightened clutch upon her arm, bordering on something of a small embrace, caught Thalia off guard, though she went on with fettered voice, "Fareeha, I  _know_  I'm a detriment to this ship. I always have been."

"This whole ship was built for you," Amari replied, "Without you, it hasn't a purpose."

That gave Thalia a moment's pause, her brunette hair sliding from her neck as she lowered her head, trying her best to hide her face as her voice grew choked, "You- You've already said such kind things to me. You've always been so good to me."

"Well, nobody else was," Amari spoke easily, pulling her hand away from Thalia's arm as she scooted closer, pressing her bare chest into her lover's back, allowing her own arm to reach around her taut body and take the knot-in-progress, "Here. This end goes here, then loops around into that first knot, right?"

Fumbling slightly with the ropes due to the slight welling up of tears along her eyes, Thalia did as she was told, working the ends around as Amari spoke up, "You've always been so good to me, too."

"I hadn't a choice," Thalia spoke up with a humored voice, "You're such a lone wolf; I knew I needed to be in order for you to notice me."

Shrugging, Amari responded, "Why couldn't I have been into bad girls?"

"Fareeha, the first night I saw you, you put a randy through a corner table for slipping a insultingly low tip to the server," Thalia giggled, "I'm pretty sure you're enough bad girl for any one couple."

"You don't say," Amari muttered, reaching her head down to take a kiss from Thalia's neck, causing her lover to shiver with gentle elation.

She answered, "You're dangerous, too."

Amari went on, "I'm not really a bad girl. I did what I had to in order to make a living. In reality, I'm  _far_  more dangerous than any bad girl; I'll lull you in with sweet nothings and lay upon your feet such sophistry that you would follow me to the ends of the earth with what imaginative future I might have in store for two souls."

Thalia smiled sweetly at her words, despite unable to be seen, allowing Amari to finish up with, "'n fuck whoever might say otherwise."

A giggle erupted from in front of the captain, Thalia's entire body quaking as she curled up in laughter, shaking her head in disbelief as she reigned herself in, "You know, we were never allowed to use such language growing up. It's still kind of silly and new to me."

"Well, maybe that's why I keep saying it," Amari confided with an eased tone, "I never want you to go without such light-hearted affairs. That's a bowline, by the way."

Thalia quickly narrowed her eyes, examining the line, "W-Well, was I close?"

"Bowlines never slip, so- Not exactly."

Frowning, Thalia slowly began to unwind the knot, shaking her head, "I'm telling you, I'm impossible."

"So what if you are?" Amari asked, "I don't give two shits whether you do anything becoming of a sailor- I'd work this entire ship by myself if I had to."

Thalia shook her head, "Hush up. The last thing I want is to be a wretch upon your ship. I don't want to do nothing and have to watch you do-"

"You love me," Amari asked, suddenly catching Thalia off guard.

Slowly, Thalia allowed her head to creep up toward her shoulder, peering into the darkness beyond the glow of her swarthy skin. Amari had dipped her face back into her lover's shoulder, simply residing there as she contemplated leaving herself bare to this woman whom had so often been there to keep her held.

"You love me," she repeated, "That enough. You don't have to do anything else."

"Fareeha…"

"Love was always conditional growing up," Amari began, slowly, "My mother was a hard ass. My father, a general's assistant. They never showed affection. The only times I ever felt like I belonged was when I had fought my way into a decent meal. It was never just okay that I was who I was."

She left a gentle kiss upon Thalia's tender skin, "I've never had anybody I could trust. There was always some other motive- if it wasn't my parent's charge toward their own prestige through my upbringing, it was friends using me or comrades following behind me as I took to the front lines."

"All you ever have to do is love me," Amari completed, her voice a soft whisper.

Thalia gave a sincerely small smirk, returning to her half-undone bowline knot, "Well, I suppose I'll just have to learn how to multi-task as well. Loving you might be the only thing I'm good at in this life, but I still want to-"

Amari reached over, cupping Thalia's hand with her own, allowing her fingers to ever so delicately roll along until she had a grasp of the knot, Thalia doing her best to worm her fingers in between her lover's in order to keep the knot within her own grasp, grinning all the same as their hands grew knotted themselves as they slowly fought for control of the bowline.

"Tell me you'll be mine. Forever," Amari spoke up quietly, earning a deepening stare from Thalia, who hadn't ever heard such words from this woman before, "Maybe I'm afraid you'll learn too much. You'll outgrow my use to you."

Thalia took her free hand and reached over to take hold of her lover's wrist, her voice a hallowed whisper, "You have no 'use' in that sense. I'm not using you any more than I'm using my heart to pump blood. How could I ever outgrow somebody I love so dearly?"

Whether Thalia had given up, or Amari had gained the upper hand, she wouldn't ever know, but she managed to take a singular hold of the knot, quickly tossing it across the room with an instant gesture, immediately bringing her hand back to pull Thalia onto her back as Amari took a glimpse of her from above in her side-long posture atop the bed they shared.

She reached her arm up to half-embrace Thalia's torso, bringing her closer into her body as her eyes darted up and down her bare skin, gaining a nervous sort of giggle from the woman, Thalia bringing her feet over to fall in line with the rest of her, which had so tightly been brought into Amari.

"You know- AAH!" Thalia shouted in surprise before quickly falling into a laughing fit, "S-Sorry! Your feet are so cold!"

Amari grinned, shooting her leg forward, trying to wrap it tightly around Thalia's, "Maybe that's why I keep trying to get at you with them."

Thalia laughed as she desperately tried to escape such a stunning sensation, "Quit it!"

"-because it makes you laugh," Amari completed as Thalia squirmed away, still lost in gentle giggles.

She quickly retrieved an arm, pushing against Amari's shoulder in an attempt to escape, "Ha ha; stop! I think I much prefer your cursing if you're wanting me to laugh!"

"Hmm, really," Amari mused quietly, pulling her legs back her way to allow Thalia freedom from her frigid assault.

She waited for her lover to calm, the two of them not breaking eye contact as Thalia remained beneath the gaze of her captain. her partner. She shivered as Amari rested a hand atop her bare stomach, sliding it up so slowly, sending mild shocks the the tips of Thalia's hair standing on edge. Amari kept her hand there, warming it against such a sweet heat accompanying the gentle rises of Thalia's breaths, making herself adequately warm as she slid her hand up to take a hold of her lover's breast, Thalia's lips opening lazily even at such an expected sensation.

"You want it's words, huh," Amari nodded, dropping her head to the sis of Thalia's, taking a gently nip at her ear before whispering ever so slightly, "Then fuck me."

A quivering breath left Thalia as she took hold of Fareeha's neck with her arm, pulling her woman against her, the two falling quickly into love once again.

* * *

"Okay, now strap it over- There you go, see?" Amari instructed, standing beside Thalia as she worked to tie the shrouds back to the side of the ship, "It isn't difficult once you get the hang of it."

Thalia groaned, despite her proudly tightening the final knot, "You keep saying that. It's a lot more difficult when I'm trying to recall this when you aren't around."

"Hey, as long as you're getting the experience," Amari shrugged, "Look, you even beat those two buzzards."

"Because you did two-quarters of the lines," Thalia explained, grinning sardonically up toward her captain, "Trust me, I know my skillset, or lack thereof, better than anybody."

Amari replied, "I've come to know you all to well, Thalia. Now finish up here; I have to go get Vincent and have him head over to the port side and get those shrouds sewn up, okay?"

"Okay," Thalia nodded with enthusiasm, leaving Amari to nod in kind before walking off toward the two men finishing up the shroud further along the deck.

She diligently returned to the final two ropes of her shroud, taking it slow, recalling what Amari had just told her. She wound the line as she'd been instructed to do, though she quickly lost her train of thought in a sudden haze that overtook her mind, even with only three steps to follow. She stared down at the half-finished not, her hands shaking, with a deep frustration welling up from within her. She felt so helpless, and even more so, so very worthless as she watched the line, tears welling up at her eyes, so ashamed at her own inability.

She jumped in a shock, recoiling as she stumbled backwards, watching with surprise as the old man, Tiff, came out of nowhere, reaching out for the line and proceeding to tie it himself, leaving Thalia shaking from the inevitable coalescence of shame and surprise.

"Th-Thanks," she managed, but to no reply from Tiff, who merely finished up the final two lines of the shroud before turning his back and sauntering back to where he'd come from, grumbling to himself faintly.

Thalia quickly crossed her arms as she lowered her head, holding herself to keep from crying, her heart aching at how helpless she was, despite having just been told what to do. All she could hear were the crashing waves along the hull of the ship, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole somewhere, her mind only brought back to life as she heard the sound of the nearby lines creaking while being pulled taut, her eyes jumping up to find Tiff working his way onto the wall of the ship, pulling his old frame up as he grappled onto the shroud.

"H-Hey!" Thalia spoke up, walking over after him, "I-I don't think you should-!"

Tiff eyed her as he stepped shakily onto the raised platform, "'ey, I gotta job ta' do, 'n I'm gonna do it! She's got th' boy somewhere else, 'n  _you_ can't work a line ta save yer own life!  _Some_ body's gotta get this done; there's too much slack 'n these ropes!"

Rebuffed, Thalia took a step back as Tiff's old legs worked their way up the shroud, the geezer shaking his head, "You'd better praise yer lucky stars ya must be halfway decent in that cabin; I got no earthly idea how anybody'd keep ya around otherwise."

Thalia slowly turned to leave, her shoulders slumped as she stepped away, shaking her head as she departed, feeling even more miserable as she left the old man to his devices. Tiff worked his old arms through the ropes, doing his best to keep himself anchored to the criss-crossing line, his exhaustion growing exponentially before he'd gotten halfway up. His breaths began to hasten, his eyes quickly wandering back over toward Thalia, though after his outburst, he hadn't an inkling to request help. Instead, he began making his way back down to the deck, mumbling fierce curses to himself as his aching body got the best of him.

As his foot reached the wall of the deck, the ship suddenly jolted with the force of a sinister wave of water crashing into its hull, causing Tiff to break free from his grip along the shroud, his body relying only on his singular point of contact with the ship, though his foot managed to slip, unable to hold his weight, leaving him careening down off the side of the ship. Between his exhaustion and the shocking sensation of falling, his throat tightened, leaving him with a silent descent into the waters below.

An incredibly faint crash of water caught Thalia's ear, leaving her halting upon the deck, slowly spinning around as her sullen face grew into one of curiosity. Tiff was missing. Confused, she eyed the deck, knowing the old man couldn't have gone anywhere quickly. She walked back to where she'd come from, giving the deck a decent glance, unsure of where he could have gone, though her mind immediately jumped to a far more dreadful conclusion.

She bolted to the side of the ship, peering over its edge to find Tiff halfway down the ship's length, desperately flailing his arms every which way, too disoriented to keep afloat beneath the crashing waves breaking upon the Raptora's hull. Thalia gasped a deep breath, spinning around and reaching up to her shoulders to pull off her thin coat before reaching for her shoes to throw them from her feet.

"h-HEY!" she cried out as loud as she could toward where Fareeha and Vincent had disappeared, "MAN OVERBOARD!"

Knowing she hadn't time to wait on them to arrive, Thalia eyed the edge of the ship with wary eyes, breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating, as she run her palms along one another, her mind reeling as she confirmed to herself, "You got this, Thalia. You can do this."

With that, she shot like a cannon toward the edge, clearing the Raptora's walls and descending like a cannonball into the waters below.

* * *

Not a minute had passed before Amari and Vincent came dashing around the corner, the captain with a desperate look on her face as she pointed Vincent toward the two spiraled clumps of lines that sat upon the deck, shouting aloud, "Grab the two mooring lines! Quick!"

Vincent broke away from her as he did so, leaving Amari to rush to the edge of the ship, peering down the length of the ship until she indeed spotted Tiff and Thalia in the water, Amari's eyes widening as she watched with terror. It appeared as though the two were relatively calm, Thalia having quelled the old man's horror, though it was clear that Tiff was quickly taking on water, his old limbs unable to carry him above the water. Amari quickly ran down the ship to where she was above the two of them, waving Vincent over as he rushed one of the thick mooring lines down to her, tossing it to her feet before dashing off for the other one.

Amari grabbed an armful of the giant rope, her muscles tearing at her body as she lifted the exorbitant weight over the edge of the ship, tossing it as best she could overboard before grabbing the line to keep it from sliding back down the length of the port side's hull.

"GRAB ON!" she shouted out loud, watching with gritted teeth as Thalia helped wrap the rope around Tiff enough that he wouldn't have to worry about grappling on to it with his own power.

Amari looked over her shoulder to find Vincent rushing the second rope to her side, holding out the first line for him to take, "Take this. Get Tiff the fuck back up here; I'll get Thalia, okay?!"

Vincent nodded obediently, taking the line as Amari retrieved the second rope, working her way down the deck to where Thalia had floated in the interim, throwing the line well behind her so that she could float down to it, though it was clear enough that the line was just barely reaching the water. Amari looked up the deck to find the line had gone as far as it could, a harrowing thought crossing her mind as she peered back down to the water.

Thalia tried desperately to grab hold of the rope, but after wrapping up Tiff, her strength had waned, leaving her far more frightened than she had been as the waves of water began overtaking her head. Amari's eyes widened in terror as Thalia floated beyond the rope's reach.

"Fuck!" she shouted, not bothering to remove anything as she hopped onto the ships edge, leaving Vincent terrified by what he was witnessing.

"W-Wait! Cap-!"

Before he could finish, Amari was airborne, crashing into the sea water below. She expertly swam toward Thalia with an otherworldly zeal, fighting the waves until Thalia fell out of sight, having been overcome by the roaring waters that the Raptora left near the backside of its hull. Amari's mind was so focused, she hadn't a moment to feel fear, instead taking in a deep breath and diving into the seawater, her powerful limbs carrying through the overpowering currents surrounding her, finding Thalia floating vertical, her arm still hanging upward toward the surface, though every portion of her body appeared lifeless.

Amari fought through the water, eventually coming to Thalia and ripping through the sea as she emerged upon the surface, taking in a furious gasp of air as she yanked an arm out from the sleeve of her coat, working Thalia's lifeless limb into it in her place, ensuring her the use of both arms while also keeping her lover anchored to her shoulder, Amari's arms churning like a furnace as her muscles carried the two of them through the powerful waves toward the awaiting mooring line.

* * *

Thalia's body hit the deck with a  _thud_ as Amari shed her coat, immediately falling to her knees and reaching both hands to Thalia's cheeks, examining her face for a moment before turning her head to the side and lifting herself to rescucitate her, locking her two hands into a fist just below her chest and putting her entire body into ejecting whatever water she'd taken. Vincent watched helplessly from a few feet away, switching from Thalia to Tiff at intervals, the old man having also collapsed on the deck, though he still retained the breath of life, despite not able to move an inch.

Amari's face grew increasingly desperate as she pushed again and again, with nothing happening, switching to Thalia's face, where she carefully locked lips with her, blowing into her mouth as tears began to well up at her eyes, mixing in with the water that covered her entire body. She returned to her chest, pushing desperately with both hands, though her muscles began to shake as the inevitable began to overtake her.

Her face long with worry, Amari shot a glance down the deck toward Tiff, who lay on his stomach as he took in weak breaths, his face turned to where his eyes could watch her in return, the two of them creating a thick enough air of tension that even Vincent became antsy as Amari left Thalia's lifeless body, rising to her feet and gritting her teeth as she gave the old man a supremely sinister stare.

"Yoooou…" she seethed, taking a single step in Tiff's direction before Vincent jumped to his feet, blocking her path with a frightful movement.

He stammered, "C-C-Captain! It-! Just give it a-!"

Vincent could tell that his captain was unable to hear him as she pushed past him, leaving the young man to scramble along with her, catching one final glance around Amari's powerful arm just s she closed the distance between herself and the old man.

"W-Wait! Captain, look! She's breathing!" Vincent cried out in desperation, finally stopping his captain in her tracks.

Amari whipped her head around to find, sure enough, the body of her lover rising and falling, ever so weakly, forcing her to return to Thalia's body before falling to a single knee, examining the water-logged body. She reached down to find a pulse, much to her relief, though beyond that and her hollow breaths, she hadn't much toward signs of life.

Standing back up, Amari turned to Vincent with an authoritative voice, "Vince. Take her to the nearest bunk. Make sure she's warm until I can get down there and switch her with some dry clothes. I need to plot a new course."

"New- New course?" Vincent asked, warily, having already witnessed his captain within the throes of emotion, "Where, uh- Where to?"

"Phocis," Amari answered matter-of-factly, "Somebody I know there might be able to help her."

A strenuously tense voice from Vincent answered her, "I-Is there a doctor there, or-?"

"There is. One I would trust would far more than the life of any man on my crew," Amari nodded, "Just take care of this one for now, okay?"

Vincent nodded, but as he crouched down to take hold of Thalia, Amari stretched out a powerful arm, grasping his shirt and pulling him close with a knowing look upon her face, "Don't do anything more. Got it?"

Shaking nervously, Vincent nodded with an uncertain speed, stuttering, "Y-Y-Yes m-ma'am- er, Captain!"

"Good," Amari nodded approvingly as she relinquished her hold, leaving Vincent to return to shaking legs before standing herself, "Due northwest. I expect a few days' travel time."

She eyed Tiff while Vincent lifted Thalia, her voice cold as she spoke, "You'd better pray she lives, old man."

Unable to reply, Tiff merely stared back at her, hiding his own unquenched contempt.


	35. Escaping Death and Chasing Life

Fareeha lowered her head in contemplation, still rolling the tiny vial from her necklace at the end of her fingers. Angela sat beside her, knees held tight against her chest as she listened to the stowaway’s tale with sullen interest, a mournful soft of frown left on her face while Fareeha shrugged, shaking her head. She brought her knee up, resting her wrist upon it as the vial dangled there lazily, it’s gleaming lanternlight catching Angela’s eye for a brief moment before Fareeha continued.

“You never answered my question,” she asked, turning to face Angela with a serious face, “Do you believe in the supernatural? or will all that follows just be the ramblings of a crazy woman?”

Angela stuttered back to life, “I mean, I- I guess I never really thought about a god, or gods, or-“

“I’m not talking about gods,”Fareeha interrupted, a thick tone of uncertainty lining her voice, “I’m talking about devils.”

Holding back a choking sort of gulp, Angela watched as Fareeha returned her attention to the tiny bottle in her hand, raising it just enough over her knee, staring through it as though to a distant friend, “Thalia’s in here. because I’m the one who put her in here. She was on the edge of death, her body withering away, so I scarred my face to frighten even the devil, snuck into his realm, stole from his vial, and captured the soul of my dearest Thalia.”

Fareeha’s brow fell, “Yet, even though I know she’s in here, it-“

She paused, catching her breath for a moment, “It still hurts. Not being able to speak to her, or feel her.”

The vial suddenly pulled back, the woman clutching her fingers around it tightly as she pressed her fist against her face, tears leaving her as she shook her head, “Saving someone…shouldn’t feel this terrible and lonely…”

Angela watched sadly, unable to figure out what to say to this woman, who’d, in her own way, had laid herself bare for her. It was such a stark contrast to the stowaway who snapped back at her at the slightest provocation, now revealing thoughts that had so troubled her. Still, Angela couldn’t quell the nagging bite of doubt at the back of her mind. doubt that what this woman was saying certainly couldn’t be true.

“I know she’s gone,” Fareeha spoke quietly through tearful sputters in her voice, “Whatever part of her that’s in here, it’s not the part that loved me, or that I loved. But it hurt, that first time I lost her. I don’t want to hurt again.”

Whatever doubt wavered deep within her, Angela knew well enough that now was not the time to present such ideas. Instead, for this person who’d so courageously given Angela a sight to behold with such sincerity, she scooted over close to her, reaching a hand out to close the distance, catching Fareeha enough off guard for her to flinch before turning toward Angela with a slight shock.

“I’m sorry,” Angela spoke up.

Such words made Fareeha give a spurtive laugh before pulling her hand away to wipe away the tears from her face, “Look at me, getting all worked up. I made it a point never to do this ever again; I thought I’d gotten good enough at it.”

“I do know enough that you can’t stop yourself from feeling,” Angela shrugged, “I’d get so upset when father would leave without me growing up, I’d try to will myself not to care about him, but it took all of one night to begin worrying, again, that he might not return.”

Fareeha smirked, “Adults are far more pessimistic, Princess.”

“ _In any case_ ,” Angela replied begrudgingly, unhappy with Fareeha’s direction, “You did get a nice tattoo out of it.”

“Does its mystery captivate you so?” Fareeha asked, more in teasing, “It’s a wedjat. It would protect deceased pharaohs in the afterlife; I figured that, if I was chasing death itself, I might as well have something I could rely on.”

Another reference to the unimaginable, though this time, Fareeha caught Angela’s moment of pause, forcing Fareeha to speak up, “I’m not saying these things to make you believe me. You wanted an explanation, so I’m giving them.”

“N-No, I-“

“Because, Princess, If only you had seen what I have. Felt what I’ve felt,,” Fareeha spoke up coldly, “You said you didn’t know what it’s like to lose a loved one. Until you’ve held the hand of the one person who loves you, cares for you; the only person who has no ulterior motives for being yours, somebody who wants you simply for you. Until you hold onto that person’s hand and feel its warmth deteriorate into nothingness, you can’t know what death is like.”

Angela glared seriously toward Fareeha, who returned the same sort of stare before shaking her head, returning her attention to her vial, “They call him the Reaper. All lives pass through his grip on their way to the afterlife. He’s the gatekeeper, in a cavern north of Phocis, a crevice where many enter but few return. I snuck in, found his little hovel of bottles where he collects the souls he finds shouldn’t go on, grabbed one without an owner and took the soul most beautiful to me- Thalia.”

Fareeha shrugged, “That’s the tale of my necklace. You wanted it, so there it is.”

“…and Moira?” Angela asked gingerly, her body having disliked away slightly in confused withdrawl.

“The Reaper’s consort in life,” Fareeha answered easily, “The Oracle woman told me to use one of the vials to take Thalia’s soul for myself. She told me to make sure I grabbed an empty one, not one labeled as in use.”

Angela’s eyes narrowed, “But…you can’t read.”

Fareeha shrugged, “You just wrote down the name. I saw it in your hand, I’ve never seen it anywhere else.”

Such carelessness, Angela thought, only made the story that much more unbelievable, though she couldn’t help but pretend to humor this woman, if only toward politeness. She took to a pause, unable to raise a reasonable objection to such a blatantly stupid solution, simply watching Fareeha with confusion as the former captain played with the end of her necklace.

“It’s funny,” she spoke quietly, almost to herself as much as Angela, “Here I hold the soul of the woman I loved so deeply for two years. Right in my hand. And yet I feel so distant from her. I almost feel closer to her when I’m reading one of her books.”

She turned to her side, picking up one of the narrow times she’d been able to complete, eyeing its cover with its written word that she couldn’t quite make out at first glance.

“I get to find out how much she enjoyed romance stories,” she grinned, “Maybe she was living through this one’s main character, wanting to be him sneaking a ring onto his beloved’s finger as she slept, waiting to surprise her upon waking. She liked stories told from a character’s perspective, with adventure, and she loved happy endings.”

Her face fell slowly, “Even though she never had one…”

Angela’s eyes turned to the floor, gloomily so, as Fareeha went on with a wavering voice, “Assuming she truly is in here… Do you think I’m a bad person? for keeping her from an afterlife.”

“She has no heart, no voice, no warmth…” Fareeha muttered in tamed wallowing, “But I- I don’t want to let her go. If not to her, then- There’s no loyalty, there’s no-“

Fareeha’s eyes descended below the necklace, “Carrying this vial… It’s a primage I’m not prepared to accept.”

Her eyes closed, tears forming as she thought about her situation, alone on a ship that wasn’t hers, running from the death of her lover, from her entire life; running from everything she ever knew, chased by a haunting visage of death itself.

She instinctively flinched as she felt a weight upon her free hand, recoiling away as her head spun to find Angela reaching over, still grasping onto her hand as it fled, keeping it anchored in the air at Fareeha’s side. Their eyes locked, Fareeha’s tear-strewn while Angela’s peered deep into their watery mass, her eyes curved sadly at the woman’s undercurrents of emotion, so heavily guarded behind her rocky exterior. Fareehe had laid herself so bare, Angela couldn’t help but feel so close to be a recipient of such confidence.

“What?” Fareeha asked, trying to hide a sniffle, “Don’t patronize me. And don’t you dare tell anybody about this- I haven’t cried since I was an infant, so you’d better keep your-“

“Why bear all of this by yourself?” Angela interrupted in inquiry, giving her a confused look from Fareeha.

She rolled her eyes, smirking beneath her tears, “Princess, you haven’t a clue. If you’re making a pass at me, or trying to get with me or something- Look, I’m not the kind of woman to be tied down once, let alone a second time, and after being so scarred no less.”

“Why do you jump to that conclusion?” Angela asked, undeterred, “I’m asking as a friend and you immediately-“

Fareeha eyed her, “Because I know your game already, Princess. I’m too smart to assume you aren’t interested in something more than that. You’re naïve, and I captivate you as some wildly dangerous thing that’ll take you off on some crazy adventure.”

Angela’s hand slid away from Fareeha’s, her brow now cooled in concern, “I- That’s-“

“Your father told me as much,” Fareeha explained, using her now-free hand to wipe away her face, “Seeing the kind of man he is, protective and slightly overbearing, I wouldn’t be shocked to learn I’m just a way to sneak out from beneath his watch.”

A chill ran down Angela’s spine as she began to grow upset, “You- You don’t even know-“

“I had a father too, Princess,” Fareeha shrugged, “I _do_ know.”

Angela barred her teeth, her act of kindness now wildly spun around in an attempt to attack her, before pushing herself up to her feet and stomping toward the nearby barrel of water, its lid spun upward to allow the crew to give their stowaway water at certain intervals. Angela closed the lid before grabbing a nearby mallet, pounding the steel ring over top the barrel to seal it.

Amused, Fareeha grinned, “What _are_ you doing?”

Shooting her a stare, Angela angrily replied, “Sealing this. Maybe you’ll learn your lesson about how to respond to people trying to be kind to you! You’ll thirst sooner or later!”

Fareeha chuckled, shaking her head, “What, am I some kind of sexual prisoner now?”

Slamming her palms into the lid, Angela shouted, “That’s not why I meant!”

Lowering her head as it shook in disbelief, Fareeha muttered as her laughter trailed off, “Oh, Princess.”

Angela stares at her angrily, her newly-red palms clenched into fists at Fareeha’s persistence at turning her into a mere plaything, though her trembling paused as she overheard the slightest bit of breath trailing through the air from Fareeha’s own, whispering lips.

“So cute when you’re angry.”

A pang of realization ran through Angela’s body; the shame of being played once again awashed with a pleasured memory that shot between her legs, quivering so gently yet it shook her heart so. As Fareeha remained with a hidden face, Angela turned toward the barrel of water, slowly bringing up the thick end of the mallet, gripping it just at its neck and worked the metal ring back off from its lid.

The clamoring arose suspicion from Fareeha, who cocked an eye up toward Angela, unable to figure out what it was she was doing. Her brow narrowed as Angela spun the lid upward before removing it entirely, sitting it nearby before turning to meet Fareeha’s own eyes. The two remained in that lowly awkward suspense for a moment, simply watching the other, though gradually, Angela began to lower her body, her head dipping low toward the barrel’s liquid contents, Fareeha awestruck by such a strange action.

Slowly, Angela’s head disappeared behind the rim of the barrel as her head collapse fully into the water, her hands gripping its wooden edge to keep her still as Fareeha’s eyes darkened. She sat there confused, her heart jolting to a start from the jarring sight before her, unsure what Angela’s plan even was. Though, she could tell quick enough, with each passing second Angela remained submerged, her plan wasn’t to simply take a drink.

“Hey,” Fareeha spoke up, her throat tightened by the tension in the air, “H-Hey!”

Angela remained with her head underwater, sending Fareeha’s heart afire as she suddenly threw her body upward, catching herself with her feet and jumping straight up, now shouting, “Hey!”

Panic rushed over her, sickened by this stunt, leaving Fareeha to quickly bend down, grabbing whatever she could, throwing it at Angela, the pouch of sweets lazily falling to the floor after crashing into Angela’s leg. Fareeha watched with wide eyes as Angela slowly lifted herself up from the water, catching a deep breath as Fareeha threw her roped arm toward her angrily.

“The fuck’re you doing?!” She demanded to know, crying out loud.

Angela’s chest rocked back and forth as she took in deeper and deeper breaths, standing there and watching as Fareeha’s furious thrashing came to a stop, the stowaway’s anger quickly enough melting into confusion. Slowly enough, as Fareeha’s brow began to curl with dismay, Angela began to step toward her, step by step, showing little sign of stopping.

“You little wench,” Fareeha muttered below her breath.

Angela wasn’t fazed, her hair confidently taking her to the stack of books and paper now is slight disarray, bending down to grab a pad and pencil, scribbling something while stealing wayward glances up toward her confused stowaway. She dropped the pencil soon enough, though kept the pad close to her side as she turned to close the gap between herself and Fareeha, until their bodies touched, forcing Angela to wrap her arm around the stowaway’s waist to pull the two of them even closer, their lips mere centimeters apart.

“That’s close enough,” Fareeha spoke, answering Angela’s sudden advance.

“Not for _this_ lesson,” Angela replied with a hushed reply.

She brought up the pad of paper, resting the bottom of her hand against Fareeha’s side, raising the pad so that it could be seen from above, “What’s what say?”

Fareeha played along, though her own slight sense of hopelessness accompanied her frustration as she eyed the two words, such an easy phrase being so difficult for her to comprehend. She bit her lips as her mind whirred awake, coming to nothing as she was caught between brain-power and Angela’s body pressed up so tightly against hers.

As she stared at the pad of paper, Angela’s arm ran up Fareeha’s side, catching the stowaway’s attention as her lips reached up to match hers, the soft pair of Angela’s lips brushing so coarsly against Fareeha’s comparatively dry set, though Angela was undeterred, planting kiss after kiss atop Fareeha’s unresponsive face.

Angela pulled away, wiggling the pad in her hand, “We’re done playing _your_ games. This is one _I_ know for a change and you don’t.”

“We’re not playing anything,” Fareeha spoke up, “Whatever that was before, it wasn’t anything more than a fling. I’m not looking for anybod-“

“Then let’s have a fling every night.”

Fareeha groaned, shaking her head, “You’re so horny, and helpless at that.”

“Good thing you like helpless girls, huh?” Angela reminded, gaining a rolling of Fareeha’s eyes as the stowaway frowned.

“Shut up,” Fareeha replies with a low tone, “You think you’re so clever to trick me and-“

Her head shot to the side, catching Angela’s hand at the rope around her wrist that had her bound to the hull of the ship. Her eyes lighting up in surprise, Fareeha returned to Angela’s face, which curled in indecision as her fingers played with the knot around the stowaway’s wrist, almost as if teasing her with the thought of freedom.

“What’s the words?” Angela asked quietly, softly jamming the pad against Fareeha’s side where her other hand remained, a sultry sort of tone leaving her, “Free yourself from this rope so you can free me from this tension.”

Fareeha’s head lowered as she tried to hide a grin, “Such a devilish little thing, Princess. but I assure you, if you’re aflutter between the legs, we _will_ be playing _my_ game. If you truly want what you desire, I can spill whatever honey you have within you without a single word from that notepad.”

“Try me,” Angela goaded with a silky voice.

The next sound she uttered was no word, but a muted gasp of a moan as Fareeha took her lips with her own, leaving Angela’s hand to leave the knot and heap hold of her stowaway’s arm for stability, her legs quivering with slight, temptuous waves with every generous suck from Fareeha’s lips upon hers. Angela ran her hand up and down Fareeha’s arm, catching those softly tender, chiseled ridges of muscles so feminine, it captivated her sense of touch as much as the soft pallets of skin taking to her face, the two of them increasing the furious pace of one another’s kisses upon the other’s.

Angela’s hand ran down toward Fareeha’s chest, a soft groan of dissatisfaction as it ran along cloth rather than the warm skin of this stowaway. She managed to pull her head away from Fareeha long enough to peer down at the buttons that prevented her from further exploring this woman, her brow furrowed almost with frustration at the restricted access. This only made Fareeha smirk.

“Needing more?” Fareeha snarled with a cockiness that caught Angela’s carnal instinct, “I told you I’m not an easy woman to get off the mind.”

Every bit of Angela’s mind wanted to bite back with some sneer about how much better she was at controlling herself, though given her current predicament, she knew she hadn’t much of any leg to stand on, her tongue quivering for another taste of this woman’s lips. Without being able to take the higher ground, Angela’s only choice was to bring Fareeha down to her own level of depravity, the two words upon that notepad running through her mind and only serving to heighten her elation.

The only way she could have her own fun, and still win, was to get Fareeha to speak those words in instruction.

Fareeha’s teasing sort of chuckling immediately came to a halt as Angela’s hand left her chest, hovering back up toward the coarse bond that kept her trapped in this hold, following Angela’s hand with intent as it closed in on the knot, carefully undoing the one thing keeping her caught in this woman’s web.

“What’re you…” Fareeha muttered quietly, unable to finish her thought as the rope suddenly slithered loose, falling to the wooden floor with a gentle _thud_ , though the stowaway’s arm remained raised in muscle memory.

Angela spoke up with a hushed tone, as if knowing she was breaking a cardinal rule of this voyage, “You’re not the type of woman to be tied down. If you want to know how serious I am about how much I’m into you, there’s little more to prove, now.”

“You irritate me to no end, and that only served to worm your presence into the deepest ends of my mind,” Angela confessed, “I can’t bear to stand upon this ship, knowing you’re but a few flights downstairs, and not allow every bit of you to take my every thought like you took so much from me that night.”

She reached up to grab Fareeha’s hand, pulling it to her side, gingerly placing it there upon her clothen shirt, “Plus, I want to feel both your hands on me. See what you can do with both of them.”

“All this…just to fuck me?” Fareeha asked, her voice aswell with both confusion and incredulity.

A smirk gradually curled at Angela’s heavied lips, her hand slowly rising with the notepad there, her eyes turning to meet the yellowed but if parchment paper, “You just said it. _Fuck me_.”

Angela rose onto her toes, losing herself in another kiss, one that Fareeha was far more entranced by. With one hand already on Angela’s hip, she brought the other to match it, squeezing softly until a muted squeal left Angela’s throat, the heated breath brushing past Fareeha’s lips as the two joined one another again and again.

“You’d better learn it well,” Angela managed in between kisses, “This voyage still has aways to go.”


	36. Lanternlight

Hana sat at her desk, her eyes dark from tire as she poured over the charts laid out in front of her, mapping out their course and comparing it to the map that had been drawn out by Captain Morrison back in Hawaii. Regardless of how many times she ran her calculations, however, the numbers refused to add up, though she did the math again and again, figuring there was something wrong with her counting somewhere along the way.

She was accompanied only by the soft light of the lantern beside her, her body hunched over the desk as her head wavered up and down, fighting sleep, knowing such a thing would be restless at best unless she figured out the course try were on. Reaching down into her pocket, she gingerly pulled out a piece of sugary candy, placing it into her mouth with a hopeful sigh, wanting another charge of energy as her pencil scrawled along the paper before her.

As she worked, the sound of clattering boots ran into her small closet of a room, earning her attention as she leaned back into her chair, curiously eyeing the doorway to find Jesse strolling along, the second mate lazily turning toward Hana as though the lantern light had just happened to catch his peripheral vision, though upon spotting the officer sitting there, he turned toward her, standing in the doorway.

"You still up?" he asked stoically, "Moon's about run half its course."

Hana frowned, "I could ask the same to you, you know."

Smirking, Jesse crossed his arms as his shoulder bore into the frame of the door, "Touché. But need I remind you who is the superior in this situation?"

Hana's face curled distastefully before Jesse chuckled, lowering his head as it shook side to side, "You know I hate pullin' rank. I was on deck fishing, trying to earn us some stores of fish."

"Still? We've had five catches by now," Hana asked incredulously.

Jesse shrugged, "All of 'em for nothin'. I figure since it's  _my_ fault, I outta bore the brunt of the work if fishing needs to be done."

"You're still on that?" Hana groaned, swaying her hand in his direction, "That's all bullshit, you know."

Jesse replied simply, "If it is or isn't, we still haven't a fish on board this ship. I'd just been at it for six hours now, not a single bite."

"Really?!" Hana asked with a half-convincing look of terror.

Grinning boyishly, Jesse shook his head, "I know you're about ta'-"

"Not a  _single_ bite?! By the gods! There mustn't be a fish left in the whole damn ocean!" Hana completed with seething sarcasm, her face dropping immediately after, "Shit happens. Fish don't bite, the boy you like doesn't return your letters; that's just life- I'm having to explain this to a man thirty years my senior?"

Jesse chuckled behind closed lips, his worn face rising to meet hers, "I s'pose sometimes you grow old without actually becoming wiser."

He shrugged absently while Hana shook her head, returning to her work as she pulled a straight-edge to draw out lines across her chart, leaving Jesse further intrigued as he asked again, "What're you up to?"

"Charts don't match up," Hana explained, "Or rather my math doesn't."

Jesse appeared surprised, "Your math's been wrong, maybe, three times since you came aboard."

Hana shot him a stare, pulling at the bottom of her eyelids, "Yeah, I know. Exhibit A. Now you know why I'm still up."

Shrugging, Jesse wondered, "Maybe we're truly off course."

"Oh hush," Hana shook her head, "I can maybe,  _MAYBE_ , accept that my math could be wrong. There's no way, in heaven or earth, that I've sent this ship off course. As certain as the sun rises, my routes are constantly perfect."

Jesse frowned, "I used to be able to say the same about my fishing."

Hana turned to give him a serious stare from her sidelong face, keeping her attention on him for a brief moment before continuing her own work, biting her lip as she ran the numbers in her head, once, twice, before writing the equations down on a slip of scrap paper to triple, and quadruple, check her math before continuing. So lost in her work was she that she nearly forgot that Jesse was even there, though the old sea dog merely stood there, staring at the soft brown hues along the lumber walls around him, a downtrodden face crossing him as he reminisced on his family.

"I shouldn't've come," he spoke quietly, a chilly timbre to his voice, catching Hana's attention, "Everything seemed in place for me to call it quits. My kids're starting school, my wife, whom has never felt so warm, I- I know she wants me to stay with her. She says I belong out here, but… I know better."

He sighed, "The albatross on our last trip. The Captain's daughter comin' along, as good'a sailor as I've seen on their first trip out here. All I've brought is a spat of bad luck."

Hana turned her head, her eyes narrowed critically, "What is this, confession time in the radio room?!"

A chuckle left Jesse's smarmy sort of grin as Hana went on, "Look, doofus, you're  _the_ most important person on this ship. Ask any of us, I swear it, we'd all, every last one of us, take you with a bad streak of luck over a voyage without you, alright? So just shut up. I thought the Captain already went over this with you."

Jesse nodded, "He did. Though, I forgot that your words somehow seem to stick more."

Grumbling, Hana frowned, "Probably because you're all so stupid at times."

"That might be it," Jesse grinned with a quiet laugh.

Hana's hands fell to her knees as she spun around on her stool, facing Jesse as she confided, slowly, "You know, my first trip on the Splitstream was my first trip off land in my entire life. I was, you know, a bit nervous- the first time Captain asked me to do something, I was so nervous I'd screw it up. I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't take to failure very well- I hate helping prove people like those Shimadas correct."

"I'd have never guessed," Jesse answered sarcastically, earning a glare from Hana that held quite a bit of her ire.

" _My point_  is… It didn't take long for my eyes to be drawn to you and how you did things. You know, it was a comfort to know that, if I screwed up, somebody like you was there to help out…" Hana finished, frowning as she blushed with embarrassment, "You know, you may think the fates wanted you to stay, but… I, for one, am glad you decided to come along. Fish or no fish."

A humored voice caused her to visibly shiver uncomfortable as Jesse smiled, "Well aren't you cute."

She turned a sharp glance toward him, "I will stab you to death with this ruler…"

"I'm just screwin' around; no worries," Jesse admitted with a smirk, stepping into the room, "I do appreciate the sentiment, though. Now let's figure out our course."

"What?" Hana asked, shocked that Jesse also knew about cartography atop everything else.

He shrugged, "You just said it was nice havin' me around to help out with stuff you guys couldn't quite do on your own."

"Well yeah, but charts and calculations- you really have to-"

"It's warmer this year; that'll screw with the winds. El Niño 'n all," Jesse noted, "You got that down. Trade winds, currents, you got all that. Huh…"

Hana watched him s he poured over the charts for a minute or so, leaning over the desk and flipping through the stack of parchment there, finally coming to the course that Hana had originally plotted, running his fingers down his chin as he noted just how far off they were going.

"Last I checked, we were off, but hardly enough for concern; it was easily correctable," Hana explained, "Captain Morrison likes to skim across the thirty, but we're a good few tens of miles off course now."

She turned her head to guard his reaction, finding a saddened expression there which only fueled her into another chiding tone, "Oh, come on; you seriously think this is another thing of bad luck toward  _you_?! Pretty sure the lucks of the six of us outweighs the single luck of yours."

"No…" Jesse muttered absently, "This much difference… This isn't luck."

His dark eyes turned to meet Hana's, "Unless our stowaway's packing quite the bit of bad luck herself."

The mention of the stowaway caused Hana's eyes to widen, a nervous chill scurrying down her back as she recalled the visit Angela had made, which had won Hana some delicious taffy, but had also bestowed a tremendous amount of guilt as well whenever the stowaway was mentioned. Jesse's eyes remained trained on her, though they became confused by her sudden lack of retort, his body straightening up as he brought up hid hands, picking at his nails as he began again.

"We'll Just reorient our course in the morning. I'll let Jack know," Jesse mentioned easily, his face still low while he fixated on his fingers, feigning disengagement from Hana as he spoke up absently, "Y'know, speakin' of the stowaway, Jack- Captain Morrison was concerned that his daughter might be sneaking down there to catch a story or two."

"R-Really…" Hana muttered nervously, burying herself back into her work to distract herself.

Jesse nodded, "Yeah, somethin' along the lines of her bein' lulled by adventurous people 'n places, especially after that whole Hanamura thing. Can't say I don't blame her; reason I got into seafaring was my old man's stories about it."

He shrugged, "Of course, most of his stories were about marauders desperate for blood or gold. He always talked about the one stowaway they kept around after he'd earned his keep. He was a youngin, nary a knowledge of the sea, but he picked up stuff quick, and he took orders. Just a shame he made it into the mess; he learned enough from the cook on his knife cuts, how to hold a knife 'n all that. He must'a gone deranged one night, started killin' everybody on the ship."

Hana shivered.

"I always wondered why he kept bringin' it up," Jesse wondered, "'course, he had the man's head on the mantle as a reminder not to trust stow-"

"She has!" Hana shouted in a nervous shudder, "I was on lookout, she came down and wanted to take my place! Jesse, please, we have to-!"

"Hold on now; I already had my suspicions," Jesse assures, waving Hana down before she could escape from her stool in a flight of pleading.

The officer pointed to the floor, "B-But can we trust her?! I knew it was bad business!"

"Look, she escaped from her ties once already, and she saved our crewman. I looked into her eyes; I found nothing but a frightened sailor so uncertain of her fate here," Jesse went on to explain, "I was just curious is all. Jack's been worried about her, askin' me every other day if I've seen anything. Y'know, I like the kid. I don't want her takin' down for a little curiosity."

Hana has calmed, though her skeptical eyes remained untrusting, even as Jesse finished, "Just, if it comes up for whatever reason, let her know her father's not stupid. I feel too privledged in my rank to speak such things to my boss' daughter anyway."

"Go ahead. You deserve a reprimand for lying to a poor comms. officer," Hana frowned as she turned back to her desk, "I'll let her know."

Jesse nodded, "Thanks. I see a lot of my sister in that girl. I'd hate to see that spirit doused; Jack's just doin' what he feels is right. I respect that."

Sighing lightly, knowing she couldn't help a broken heart whenever Jack's wife was brought up, Hana simply agreed once again to affirm her intentions, "Yes, yes, I'll do it, alright?"

"Thanks," Jesse smiled fleetingly, turning to leave, "No stayin' up too late, ya hear?"

Hana watched as the man's visage disappeared into the darkness as it left the small room, the lantern's glowing orange light unable to keep up beyond the threshold. Her shoulders slumped respectfully as she wondering whether or not it truly was the need to fish that kept him up so late on this night. Eyeing her charts, which had been correct despite her hours of attempting to find it contrary, she wondered if the same could have been said about her.

* * *

Fareeha pulled her arm out from beneath the thick blanket that had been brought out from one of the nearby crates, the cold air biting at her bare shoulder, though before it could escape, a tender hand took her wrist, keeping her from taking the quilt up to cover herself fully. Her head turned down to the patch of blond scalp that just barely left the confines of the blanket, Angela having buried herself against Fareeha's body with her face warmly greeted by a pair of warm breasts that the blanket itself couldn't hope to match in comfort. Fareeha took a quick jolt down her arm, trying to free herself, though Angela remained locked onto her wrist much like the rope had been a a mere hour ago.

"Geez," Fareeha spoke up quietly, smirking at Angela's childishness, "I'm not going anywhere, just- Ow! Let me go; I'm just gonna pull the blanket up, okay?"

Angela freed her nails from Fareeha's skin before allowing her arm to leave, offering up the freedom of Fareeha to yank the quilt up to cover her body, "What, you think I'm able to fuck 'n run on a ship? I couldn't go anywhere even if I wanted to."

Without Fareeha's limb to grapple unto, Angela wrapped her arm around her bare torso, pulling herself even closer against the woman's tanned skin, leaving Fareeha to return her stare to the now-empty hole in the top of the blanket, "You're cute, you know that?"

"Mm mm," Angela replied with a tiny, defiant tone.

"You truly are. I kind of want to lie and tell you that sex is always a precursor to a relationship just because of how cute and naïve you are," Fareeha went on with a teasing tone, which only led to Angela's face bounding from side to side within her bosom, her nose poking and prodding at her skin.

Angela managed quietly, "I know it isn't."

"Well you're mighty clingy for one who does."

A pause.

"You haven't anywhere to go," Angela concluded, giving Fareeha a throating chuckle behind her closed lips.

"Touche," she agreed, admitting to herself that Angela's warmth was pleasant nonetheless, "Though you certainly didn't take me like a woman knowing that. You certainly appeared like you were wanting your tongue to be a reason I come back to you…again and again."

Unable to guage Angela's reaction, Fareeha was left to her own devices, giggling under her breath as she shook her head, "And I did catch you drawing letters while you were doing that. That's something you find in books; it's more distracting in practice, you know; thinking about-"

"In which language?" Angela asked quietly, leaving Fareeha with a start, "I left a few with you."

Fareeha rolled her eyes, "And you think you're so cool and suave. There's no single doubt about how cute you are. You're bordering on adorable, y'know."

She peered down toward the bulge in the blanket beside her, "You're probably far too happy that I can't see your blushing face, too."

"You've seen every part of me," Angela noted, her voice further hushed by the thick fabric of the quilt over her, "I haven't much to blush about."

Fareeha's eyes narrowed, "I have, but the key is that I probably want to see it again. and again. and again."

Silence.

Fareeha chuckled as she allowed her shoulder to fall back onto the floor, lying there on her back as Angela rolled to her side, still clutching her stowaway's torso as she met her side, "Now I know you're blushing, Princess."

There remained no reply, though it might have had more to do with Angela readjusting herself to Fareeha's new position. She slid atop the blanket they lay upon, closing in enough that the side of her head could rest atop Fareeha's chest, her breasts not much of an impediment given their size and her pose. Angela hadn't given it a second though, though Fareeha's face slowly began to descend at the thought as her head lifted up to watch the Angeline bulge in the quilt just above her.

The warmth began to build underneath the blanket once again, leaving Fareeha with the urge to close her eyes and sleep, though she knew she couldn't. One of the two of them needed to remain on the lookout for the morning sun, and so proud of her work was she that she knew Angela was far more in need of such a think. To that end, she would make the sacrifice, much as Angela had made such a sacrifice unto her in the form of so many kisses and a generous pairing of nectars.

She gingerly began to stroke Angela's golden hair, ever so slowly, still catching a hint of its wetness that had so allured her. Fareeha had always felt so at home at sea, and had caught so many tales of beautiful mermaids that would catch glimpses of crewmen, prepared to take so lucky few of them into their arms. Fareeha would often take to such stories with such a sense of sadness, having no idea that any of those women would ever possibly be seated on an assortment of ocean rocks, peering out for another woman within whom they could discover solace. Yet here was one, and while she still retained her human form, Angela wet hair that clung to her face, it overtook so many fantasies that had preoccupied Fareeha in her adolescence.

Here was a mermaid, so golden-haired and fair, prepared to be Fareeha's own. Yet she couldn't bear to accept such a bargain. Not when she was so cursed, so brusque; when she was so undesirable beyond such trifling, physical actions. She knew Angela could do so much better. The best thing Fareeha could offer her was rejection. but not now.

For now, Fareeha merely enjoyed the presence of such beauty, such softened hair, such a warmth that kept her company and in comfort, here in such an uncomfortable place.

Suddenly, a quiet voice eeked out from below her, a soft, gentle thing, "Were you telling the truth?"

"About you being cute?"

A pause, Angela answering with a shaking tone, "About the devil and all that."

"I know what I saw," Fareeha confirmed, her breathing remaining even beneath Angela's head, "I have no way to prove it, but-"

"I think you're crazy," Angela interrupted suddenly, leaving Fareeha with a knowing grin as she peered down toward the bump above her chest, "You have to be to seduce the daughter of the man whose boat you're stowing away on."

Fareeha corrected, "Princess, you've got it quite back-"

"Stop," Angela suddenly instructed, "Quit with that name."

Fareeha replied, "I guess you've earned that much.  _Angela_. Not everybody likes pet names."

She silently rolled the word around her tongue, mouthing the name, an illustrative tingle rushing down her spine as her tongue flicked from the roof of her mouth at the 'l' sound, finding quite a seductive motion in this language she had nary a clue about in its written form. Such thoughts only served to remind her of Angela's boast a moment ago, wondering how many languages she happened to know how to write.

Angela's hair slid down Fareeha's chest as her head trailed low, a slender voice escaping as Angela admitted, "I don't mind pet names… I'm just nowhere near regal enough for that one."

"Really..?" Fareeha spun her words with a decadent sort of tease, "I s'pose I should have figured as much. You can't be adverse to pet names, really, while also taking to being tied up so naturally."

Angela quivered at her recounting, though thankfully, Fareeha ent on, "All that talk about being tamed; for as free as you long to remain, you truly are one who seeks to held d- well,  _tied_  down, perhaps."

The temperature seemed to rise underneath the blanket simply from Angela's blush, though she remained calm enough to speak without Fareeha questioning her tone, "Only If it's the right person."

"And that's me?" Fareeha wondered aloud, "I'm a ragged-ass stowaway with nothing to lose. Ever single word of all this could be a lie- everything I ever told you. I'm a scoundrel."

Fareeha's arm slithered beneath the blanket, bringing her hand to the small of Angela's back, such a slenderous bit of skin that allured Fareeha's very senses just by its touch. She balled her hand into a fist, pushing it deep into Angela's skin and rolling it atop the bone beneath.

"This could all be a ploy. I could have done every bit of this just to win your trust, kill you as you sleep, right here, and escape," Fareeha notes with a shallow voice, as though just afraid of Angela agreeing with her scenario.

Without skipping a beat, Angela replied, "I don't care. You happen to make so many things so slow and pleasurable; I couldn't care less."

Fareeha scoffed at such bravado coming from such a pretty little thing, though Angela's confidence charmed her enough. She knew that was a quality she lacked, even if her frame often dictated an air of strength.

"Oh, hush," Fareeha managed between unrelenting lips, "…Angie."

A kind of relieved sigh cast overtop Fareeha's bare stomach as Angela took in a breath, only nuzzling her face into the skin that had so invited her. She soon fell asleep, though Fareeha remained awake and vigilant, knowing far too well that any moment alive could be her last. She only wished this woman's warmth, which seemed so angelic now, could somehow transcend the afterlife, whenever that might come for her.

She knew death was closer than she would ever care to admit.


	37. Death Comes

Lucio held Bastion in his hand, the old bird resting there comfortably as the sailor ran his fingers down its back, the chaf staring worriedly at the dark clouds beginning to roll in from the east. His teeth were exposed as he bit his bottom lip, the prospect of any storm rolling through remaining one of his greater fears. Such things were deadly enough on land, but atop the ocean, they were downright apocalyptic at times.

Still, his free hand clutched onto the side of the Splitstream, a formidable ship to be sure. Most other ships that crossed the ocean, including the now-destroyed Hanamura, would travel around the storm paths, but Captain Morrison traversed the deadly seas, his ship proving, time and again, its roughshod sort of resiliency.

He turned his head as voices approached behind him, catching his Captain's specifically as Captain Morrison conversed with Junkrat, "I see now, yes."

"Those clouds're downright deadly, sir!" Junkrat exclaimed.

Jack nodded, "Jamison, go gather the crew. I want a meeting with all of them."

Junkrat obeyed, skittering off back into the ship while Jack continued on, stopping beside Lucio as he leaned over the side of the ship, staring at the storm with weary eyes, "Well, Lu? What are you thinking?"

"You give me too much credit, sir," Lucio chuckled nervously, "I've always deferred to your expertise on such things."

"You have, huh? It's nothing more than rudimentary knowledge; you simply out-run the storm," Jack shrugged, "Though, this one's catching up to us, so… It might be more arduous than most storms we encounter. The Splitstream is light enough to be fast, while heavy enough to bore the brunt of most winds."

Lucio grinned, "I don't doubt the worthiness of your ship; I've put my trust into it enough. It's just, this trip specifically- I don't know, ever since San Francisco…doesn't it just feel different somehow?"

His Captain groaned, "Don't Tell me you're buying into McCree's nonsense."

"No! I mean, not really," Lucio confided quietly, "But I mean, even if he's just being superstitious, you have to admit- we blew up the flagship of the Shimada Company, for crissakes! This isn't a normal journey."

Jack shrugged again, "Aside from human intention, there's been nothing strange. Storms happen, we go without catching fish; nothing abnormal- we're not catching beluga whales in our nets or anything. I'd admit,  _that_ would compel me to believe something were up. We've overcome far worse than a lack of fish, ill remind you."

"I suppose so," Lucio chuckled lightly, dipping his hand low as Bastion hopped to the deck to wobble of on some unknown task, "Even that time we wound up with Bastion, there. He must'a flown out to sea in some effort to perish, but ended up near dead on the ship instead."

"God, I remember that hunger," Jack recalled with a somber grin, "Four days without food and that bird falls down upon our ship like manna from heaven. Looked like a buffet fit for twelve Kong's by the time I caught a glimpse of that thing wound up in Jamie's arms so it could get away- I thought that man would'a eaten it feathers 'n all!"

Lúcio's eyes narrowed in thought, "I can't even remember between the haze of hunger and the passage of time; who convinced us not to make a meal of that bird?"

"I don't even know," Jack admitted lightly, "Probably Lena, But I couldn't tell ya. Point is, we've survived much worse on these seas. The ocean will care for us in due time."

"I sure do hope so," Lucio groaned unsurely, turning to find the crew filing out from within the ship, "Well, Cap, do your thing."

Captain Morrison nodded as he approached his crewmen, a few of them noticing the darkening sky for the first time. Angela's eyes ran wide as she walked with her head turned, a fear welling up from within her as she thought of her mother. She bumped into Hana before she remembered where she was, the officer shooting her a glance from over her shoulder as Angela apologized, the two reorienting their attention as their captain began to speak.

"Alright, crew; we've got a storm coming, so I want us all on the same page. We've got a few crates on-deck that need to be tied down as secure as possible. McCree, you got that?"

"Aye, Capt'n."

"I need our stores counted and if we have anything on-deck that we need inside- on the chance this storm lasts, we'll need whatever's necessary in the cabin. Hana, you and Lucio take care of that," Jack ordered, nodding to match the crewmen, "Junkrat will secure everything below deck, and Lena and I will bring the auxiliary masts down. Hana, are we back on course?"

"Uhh, for now, anyway," she shrugged.

Jack nodded, "Alright, well we'll ride out this storm and hope for the best. I don't want all our masts getting tattered, so Lena, get up top and I'll untie down here and collect them."

"Aye aye, Captain!" Lena cried with a fierce salute, as though trying to outdo Jesse's reply.

"Alright," Jack nodded with a pensive sigh, "Turning toward his daughter, "Angela, this you're your first- Angela."

He called out to her, her attention having been taken by the rolling black clouds at the horizon. She stared off with sunken eyes, as though realizing something hidden so deep within her mind, though her father could only watch her with confusion.

"Angela!" he repeated louder, but to no avail except for Angela to speak up herself in explanation.

"I don't think that's a storm…"

Jack's brow fell before turning to view the clouds again, everybody else participating as well before they all sauntered toward the port side for what bit closer of a look they could get. Sure enough, the clouds that roiled beneath the sky appeared far more localized than moments ago, like a dark saucer clinging to the sky above, covering the ocean below it at the horizon with a pale dark air that seemed to annihilate the sunlight within its grr waves.

Lena was already slowly encroaching upon the shrouds of netting before Jack could instruct her, "Lena… Go get a look in the nest…"

She failed to reply, through she allowed a kick in her step as she bounded up the mass of ropes toward her nest, leaving the rest of the crew on deck to stare in awe at the wholly unnatural sight before them. Angela felt a shiver coursing throughout her body while her mouth fell open, a shaking voice leaving her every so quietly..

"She was right…"

Her father eyes her with suspicion as Junkrat hopped up with excitement, "Prob'ly those Shimada thugs comin' for round two! I pummeled them fools tha first time; let git 'em again!"

"I can understand them having black clouds surrounding them, but I doubt that's them," Hana muttered with a smarmy frown, "It's probably some weird natural thing like a dark tornado or water spout or something."

"No!" Lena shouted, her body leaning over the thin wall of the crow's nest with a telescope to her eyes, "No, there's definitely a ship in there headed this way! And fast! Blimey!"

Hiding his disappointed glare from his daughter, Jack remembered his position, turning to the others, "Whatever it is, we'll let it pass without incident."

He eyed Junkrat, "Jamison..?"

"'Ey Cap'n, I do some stupid things 'n all, but I nevah disobey my Cap'n!" Junkrat asserted easily, granting him an approving nod from Captain Morrison as he returned to Jesse.

"Let's go ahead and prepare, just in case. Jesse," Jack nodded toward his second mate, the sea dog returning with a nod of his own.

Jesse offered, "Yes Sir. Shall I get Lucio and Hana to continue as well?"

"We'll be good on rations," Jack answered absently, returning his state toward his daughter," Just focus on the crates…and the masts."

Slowly, Jesse allowed his eyes to follow his captain's, catching Angela slinking her back toward he interior of the ship. Jack's eyes narrowed like a lion about to pounce, though Jesse was quick to throw a hand up to grasp Jack's shoulder, yanking him in close to get his attention.

"Jack," he spoke in a hushed tone as he leaned into his captain's ear, "It's cool; she's-"

Jack wrangled himself away, shouting out for Angela to hear, "Where are you going?"

With a start, Angela froze, her body just about to enter back into the ship. She spun to return her father's glare, almost feeling a freezing wind at her back from those piercing eyes, her mouth only able to hang there in shock as she attempted to explain herself.

"I-I, uh, was about to check the, uh, rations and all that st-"

"How stupid do you think I am?" Jack asked suddenly, sending tremors down Angela's spine, "You're going to see our stowaway again."

The deck fell silent as the crew all turned to watch what was going on, the lot of them aghast at this revelation, though Hana merely hung her head low with an anguished groan. Angela's hand clutched the door with a furious grasp, furious that her father would say such a thing in front of everybody, though she knew that might well have been his point. He'd always preached that crews should be as close and open as family.

"I already told you, child, you aren't to see them again. You were to thank her and leave it at that," Jack noted with a cold voice, "The moment you place personal persuits above the crew, you become a problem."

Angela could feel her arm trembling at the accusation, her foot taking her an angry step closer toward her father as she spewed, "I'm a  _problem_?! I've done nothing but excel at any and every task you've given me aboard this ship!"

"Ever since we left Hawaii, you've been lackadaisical, you've been disrupting your sleep pattern and working tired; that kind of stuff leads to mistakes, and sometimes a small mistake can become a  _big_ one real quick out here," Jack went on, "I don't give two shits about who that stowaway is or what she did to save you- she's got  _one_ trip aboard this ship;  _I'm_ trying to make sure you know what's what so you can take  _fifty_ trips aboard this ship. We all do to much for this ship for you to skirt your responsibilities."

"And  _I_ don't?!" Angela chided, " _I'm_ the one who took any time to know the person we're carrying overseas! If not for me, we'd have no idea that Fareeha-"

Jack raised a hand, pointing a single finger into the air as he spoke chillingly slow, " _Don't_ use her name."

"I fucking will!" Angela shouted, "She the only one who knows what that thing out there is!"

Captain Morrison paused, watching his daughter critically as the crew behind him muttered amongst themselves at her words, Angela taking a moment to compose herself at the moment's silence, "Look, it's fucking insane, but that's the devil out there."

Her father insantly scoffed, shaking his head with an incredulous smirk, "She's already screwed with your mind-"

"Father!"

Jesse stepped forward, holding onto Jack's shoulder as he watched Angela with a low glance, his voice leaving him like a ghost, "You mean Blacktalon. The devil of the seas."

Shrugging, Angela replied, "S-Sure! Whatever that thing is out there! She was in his cave; she's seen him with her own eyes! That's why she has that tattoo on her face!"

Although she was pleading to her father, she quickly turned to Jesse for any sort of support, though the second mate could only shake his head, "Angela, Blacktalon is a children's tale. I tell it to my two kids every night."

"No! It's real! Look out there!" Angela pleaded, pointing out toward the ocean.

As if calling her bluff, Captain Morrison shrugged, reaching into his coat pocket and retrieving a substantial dagger, tossing it toward Angela, who swiped it out of the air as her father crossed his arms, "Fine. Bring her up here. If there's any explaining to do, she oughta do it herself."

"Gladly," Angela replied with a furious face, eager to prove her father wrong, turning into the ship and disappearing.

Jack's lips curvered deliberately as he thought to himself, though his concentration was rebuffed by Jesse, who suddenly gave him a vigorous shrug instead of pulling his hand away, "Are you fucking stupid, Jack?!"

" _Captain_ ," Jack corrected.

"No, fucking  _Jack_ ; you're gonna ruin your relationship with your daughter over a woman who risked her goddamn life for her?!" Jesse exclaimed with a disappointed voice.

Jack pulled his coat further over his shoulders, "Desperate people do desperate things. We know nothing about that woman; in fact, we've evidence to believe some fucking sailboat is chasing us down to get to her. If you know what's good for you, you'll understand- if I can trade a stowaway for the safety of my crew, I'll do it in a heartbeat. If Angela needs a harsher lesson to learn about trust, she shouldn't have put herself in that situation."

"What about trust in  _you_?!" Jesse shouted with outstretched arms.

" _Every single thing_  that I've done, it's been for that girl," Jack reminded coldly, "I'm not about to make the same mistakes I made in the past. I have  _every_ intention of keeping Angela safe."

Jesse grit his teeth, his hand clutched into his fist, knowing what was about to happen as he spoke up heatedly, "That girl is  _not_ Emmy."

His captain's face suddenly began to curl in frustration as Jesse continued, "Just because your  _wife_ died despite your direction doesn't mean your  _daughter_ -"

In a split second, Jack threw a fist through the air, clocking Jesse in the face and sending his second mate to the deck as Lucio and Junkrat immediately jumped at their captain to hold him back, though he exhibited no intention of continuing. He merely stared at Jesse as the sea dog curled up, slowly pushing himself up to his feet, his dark eyes peering back up at Jack through his scragily hair running down past his head.

"'bout time you heard that," Jesse mumbled coldly, his hand covering his cheek to soothe the searing pain there, "My sister would've  _hated_ your trying to squash that girl's spirit."

Jack didn't move, though Lucio and Junkrat remained tense, feeling their captain's muscles begin to bulge as Jesse continued, "You stole away her uncle so she wouldn't catch a longing for this life. I played that game far too long, it seems."

Captain Morrison's anger continued to build, though it was Lena's voice from high above him that stole his attention, "Hey, boys! Starboard side! That thing's moving fast!"

Jack turned over his shoulder, sure enough, the dark cloud surrounding the ship seemingly corsing through the ocean waters on a near collision course with the Splitstream's trajectory. He quickly pulled his arms from his crewmen, Lucio and Junkrat allowing him freedom as they watched in awe as the darklit ship cruised closer from just upon the horizon, Jack's gaze unflinching as he eyed the ship as well.

"Jesse," he muttered, "Get on that thing about securing the cargo."

And like a cadence unbroken by the previous argument, "Aye, Cap'n."

* * *

A small ship, its wooden slats torn and broken from centuries of use rushed through the ocean, unhindered by the water's resistance and not needing the flowing winds to carry it. This vessel was carried by nothing more than the ghostly gasps of the souls piloting it, their oxygen becoming vengeance, and the most vengeful of them all stood at its bow, his dark eyes peering far off as his year-long quest grew closer in his sights. Nothing more than a black robe that leaked noxious fumes and a pale white, ghastly mask denoting his sight, though he hadn't the need to depend on eyes.

This was Blacktalon, the Reaper, his only attachment left to this world being that sense of unfulfillment that comes with the loss of a love so great. That, and that vengeance that came with hunting down the woman that stole the soul of that love that so bound him to this plane of existence. He had been stuck to this portion of his ship for weeks now, awaiting for his target to appear just above the horizon, and now, his patience was rewarded.

A skeletal sailor skittled up behind him, her bones rattling as her own robe swashed along her empty frame. Her skull quickly grew into disuse as she walked, rocking back and forth until it collapsed, rolling along her spinal cord and dangling from her neck beneath the hood of her cloak that followed. Hurriedly, she reached up to readjust herself, turning her head quickly to work her joints back into some sort of use.

"Capitán! The ship is in sight!" she declared.

"I can see that much…" Blacktalon muttered, "Get the crew ready."

The sketal woman nodded, "I will prepare the maker of widows, Capitán."

"Not just her," he ordered, cooly, " _All_ the crew."

She nodded, her body falling into a reverent bow, "Sí, Capitán. I will slow our speed just enough to see what treasures hell has to offer us. I will ready the sheer hulk for its descent."

"My thanks, Olivia," Blacktalon allowed his graciousness.

Picking up her skull once again after picking herself up from her bow, Olivia's teeth clattered with nerves as she weighed the idea of speaking, ultimately deciding upon a quiet, "Eh, Capitán; you  _did_ mention back in Phocis… What, pray tell,  _are_ we hunting here..?"

"A woman," he replied, the air surrounding him beginning to churtle and come alive as heated waves of steam swirled, "A woman who stole the soul of the most beautiful being that ever walked this earth. My dear Sombra, we're hunting Fareeha Amari, for she has stolen my Moira's soul."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took more than a year to get to this point :p


	38. Lover Rescinded

Sombra slipped into the hill of the ghost ship, slapping the jumble of disrepaired parts that made something of a crane within the boat's hull, sitting overtop a hole in the floor that overlooked the depths of the ocean. Her Hans's fierce strike seemed to bring the contorted machine to life, and she quickly hopped up and down in excitement as the crane's winch began to whir to life, sending its ghastly looking into straight toward the water at a snail's pace.

"Hee hee! Arise, my abstract assortment of brothers and sisters!" she exclaimed happily, suddenly turning toward the stairway that led into the frigid room, her jaw falling in shock, "What are  _you_ doing down here?!"

Strolling down the stairs with a regal zeal came another being, though not skeletal in nature. This woman was a assortment of fabric strung around an ethereal, slender body that was more ghost than skeleton, the dark form stepping down the steps with only her blue eyes giving off any sort of light behind the eclectic collection of fabrics, "He had me come down here in case you need help."

"Help?!" Sombra exclaimed with incredulous resentment, "You can't even lift an oar; how'd he figure you could help?!"

The shade made a dismissive motion, noticed only by the wafting of fabric over her darkened, empty frame, "Mon Capitaine has requested one of the more foul beasts to enter this world. I wouldn't doubt an assortment of bones couldn't handle such an assignment."

"Hey puta, I don't give two shits what Capitán thinks I  _am_  or am  _not_ capable of, you got that?!" Sombra declared as the crane's tether slowly reached to the water, weakly creaking its way along as a sudden pool of sickingly purple water began to swirl at the empty square in the floor of the ship, the slab of water disappearing behind the thick void of purple vapor.

Sombra excitedly declared, "I believe you say voila, do you not? Well, voila!"

The shade refrained from answering, though remained to watch as Sombra jumped down onto all-fours, lowering her head to follow the crane's hook as it vanished into the ghastly portal, "And he thought I couldn't handle this! Pshaw!"

She excitedly began to cackle, her head rousing from its station atop her spine, suddenly rocking its way off its single hinge before falling off her skeletal body entirely, careening downward into the twisting vortex of death. Sombra's arms immediately flew outward, trying to grasp her skull, though being unable to see, they merely flailed wildly with no purpose until her skull disappeared into the purple pool, the skeleton's arms falling to their body's side in defeat.

The shade muttered poigniently, "Imagine that. Such pleasant silence without that thing."

Sombra's skeletal body slowly leaned forward, reaching out into the sickly colored pool as if in knowing, her skull slowly reemerging from the vile portal, a demonic collection of hands handling it graciously until the skeletal was body managed to retrieve it, slamming the empty headspace back onto her spine before giving a thankful high-five to a few of the arms before they vanished once again into the neather.

She peered up toward the shade, speaking angrily, "I heard that, puta!"

"I spoke nothing but the truth," the ghost replied monotonously, "It seems as though you constantly losing your head isn't the worst thing in need of adjustment; your mouth might take the cake."

Sombra cackled lowly, "I'm the liveliest thing  _on_  this ship; no way am I sacrificing whatever humanity I have left. Unlike  _some_ people…"

The shade refused to answer, which played into Sombra's next question as a crooked voice left her unmoving jaw, "You haven't a body  _or_ a name. One can't help but wonder what it was that killed you, maker of widows."

"Just finish up," the shade answered, "If you're as good as you claim, you shouldn't have too much of an issue shutting your trap and finishing this quickly."

Sombra turned down to the sick pool, "Hey, you can't rush these things. Fishing for demons ain't simple, pendejo; 'specially if Capitán is wanting a  _reel_ biggun'."

She cackled at her own joke, reaching a steady hand of bone over the pool, grabbing the rope and swirling it around the viscous soup below as if attempting to entice a kitten with a string, "C'mon mamón, you know you want to join us up-"

"Sure you don't need help..?" spoke the shade with a droll air, leaving Sombra to shoot an unamused glance.

She turned up toward the shade with a sneer, "Listen, puta, I don't wanna hear it. I've been walking around like this far longer than you have; I think I've learned a bit more respe-"

As she spoke, the entire ship swayed to the side as a massive  _CRRRASH_ tore through the side of its hull, almost as if it were sliding along the side of a gigantic rock. The boat rocked violently as Sombra desperately clutched the edge of the open floor, hanging in between her hand-hold and the rope from the crane, her skull suddenly breaking free from her torso once again as the ship began to calm its movement, sending her skull flying toward the pool of viscous liquid.

At the last second, the shade threw her torso to the side, a thin vapor shooting out from her side and shredding through the fabric that had rested there, a pole-like extension shooting out from her void-like body, flying through the eye socket of the skull and its bottom, leaving it dangling from the dark arm that extending through most of the hull, keeping it from falling into the pool below.

"This changes nothing…" the skull muttered.

The shade replied with a droll voice, "A thanks would be nice. Otherwise I might forget how this ghost of a body works."

The skeletal body dropped its shoulders in defeat as the skull's jaw dropped, "Fine, fine. Thank you, okay?"

Almost as if mulling the apologize, the shade remained motionless for a few moments before lowering her lengthy 'arm', allowing the skull to slide down until rolling off its edge, rolling on the wooden floor until Sombra's bony torso could collect it and return it to her shoulders. She gave a dismissive look toward the shade, though appreciated her effort nonetheless.

"Nice catch…" she allowed, defeatedly.

The extended arm retracted into the shade's body with a curious blur, "Even without a body, I seem to have the same reflexes I had while among the living. Still, I must head up onto the deck and find out what all it happening to send the ship into such a frenzy."

"H-Hang on," Sombra muttered lowly, turning her head away to hide the shame that might have covered her face had she possessed one, "Just- Just help me get this thing, alright? If Capitán is in need of this beast, he'll want it before either of us."

The shade gave a weak sort of shrug through its darkening frame before spinning in place toward Sombra, floating listlessly toward the opposite side of the hole in the floor. Suddenly, as if in an evaporation in reverse, a bundle of pellets appeared in something of a shadowy hand. In a moments' time, the pellets blossomed into bundles of skittering spiders, crawling up and down the shades shadow arm until, in a split second, it disappeared, leaving the hundreds of tiny spiders collapsing into the void like an assortment of black raindrops.

"Entice him with the living," the maker of widows instructed, "He'll come for more."

"Huh," Sombra shrugged, reaching out to wiggle the cord some more, "Makes sense, I suppose."

She lowered her head in thought for a moment, thinking to herself before mumbling quietly, "Hey, uh, I always  _have_ been curious. Why haven't you a body?"

Despite lacking eyes, the shade was clearly peering in Sombra's direction, sending a rattle along the skeleton's spine, gradually coming to decide upon answering, "Somebody who does not wish to posess a body in life is rarely offered one in death."

The rattle continued, though Sombra merely gave a wonderous sigh, "Whew, that's crazy, puta. All that happened to me was I was hunted down, accused of being a witch, hanged, and my corpse burned alive. I could have done without the hanging; I hadn't a clue the condition would last."

Sombra hummed to herself, almost with a ghastly happiness, as she entertained herself with the wiggling cord, the shade refraining from movement as she watched, finally speaking up as silence descended upon the hold, "…well?"

"Well, what?"

The shade asked, " _Were_  you a witch?"

Sombra's body curled up in a manner that seemed to demonstrate amusement, her voice appearing as something rather sinister, "Let's just say they couldn't kill me fast enough."

With a curious motion, the shade swayed to the side, her dark body jolting at a massive  _CRUUUNCH_ came from the sheer hulk as it was nearly torn away from its base attached to the ship, Sombra happily bounding around the pool toward the crane in disrepair, singing happily, "We got us a deemooon~! We got us a deemooon~!"

She smacked the crane, returning it to life as the winch shook in reversal, the rope beginning to spin upward as the sheer hulk brought up the ghoul it was meant to catch. As it whirred, hand and arms of the damned clung to the cord, desperately clinging to their final chance at tasting the world of the living, though Sombra was quick to poke at them with her boney feet, forcing them back into the void.

"Hold up! You had your chances; back in there!" she ordered viciously, "Even we have nary a chance remaining here!"

The dark portal began to whir with a sickly motion as the demon approached, Sombra growing more and more giddy at the idea of eyeing such a horrible being, speculating early as she exuded excitement, "Maybe it's a banshee! or maybe a a draugr! Oooh, how exciting!"

The wood of the ship began to crunch with tension, the air surrounding the two growing thick with tension, forcing even the shade to creep up closer to Sombra with worry. The lumbered bars that made up the floor began to warp, the void shook uncontrollably as the winch gradually retained the near-length of its line, the demon approaching at a mad pace.

Suddenly, from the evil portal, a massive, thick green arm tore into the world of the living, grasping the edge of the ship as the line emerged, the paired green hand connected to its chained end, the two ghastly women staring with surprise at the two green arms, both covered with maggoted streaks of scarred skin.

"A ghoul…" Sombra surmised darkly, her head turning in admiration, "Must be that tipo with the fists of doom Capitán wouldn't quit talking about."

* * *

Jack's face turned pale as the approaching ship vanished, slowly, as though becoming dark vapor along the sea, though the dark clouds above it remained, still wafting through the sky toward the Splitstream. The crew gasped in astonishment, silenced only by the heavy  _THUD_ of Lena hitting the deck, though even she peered off toward the ocean with a look of awe. Junkrat was the first to turn toward the rest of the crew, his arms splayed out wide with disbelief.

"Welp! It was nice knowin' ya all!" he offered before turning to dash down the starboard side of the ship, heading for one of the wash tubs used to clear debris off the side of the ship, the Aussie latching onto a means of escape, though Hana threw out a leg to trip the man up, Junkrat slamming into the wooden floor head-first and sliding to a stop.

"Nobody's leaving!" Hana shouted authoritatively, eyeing her Captain, "Right?!"

Jack remained still, his mind churning like gears as the phantom ship approached with reckless abandon, finally turning toward Hana with a distant look, "No."

"See?! Nobody's going- Wait, What?!" Hana cries out, watching helplessly as Captain Morrison turned on his heel, stepping toward the center of the ship.

He spoke up with the voice of a Captain indeed, "Lena, get on the wheel. Hana, that thing you did with the Hanamura's plating, have you refined it?"

"W- I mean, no, but it's just sound waves bouncing off stuff- it's not exactly complex aside from catching them off the right frequency," Hana explained with a shrug, "Wait, are you-?"

"Yes," he nodded, "If that ship thinks it can break through us like an iceberg, it's got another thing coming. You direct me, and I'll direct Lena- Oxton, if at any point we're boarded, make yourself scarce. You make well along the side of the ship as well; latch on and feel the room, you'll know what to do."

Lena looked aghast, "What?! When have I  _ever_ known what to do?!"

"Up," Jack instructed, pointing her toward the wheel, which she begrudgingly made her way off toward, leaving Morrison to return to the crew, "Junkrat, man the cannons. Aim Croc and Taz-Man up toward the top deck; of at  _any_ point you hear either of those words, fire them. Taz-man up deck and Croc near mid-deck."

Normally excited for such conversation, Junkrat answered with uncharacteristic disgust, "Gah, Cap'n, whatcha even got planned?!"

"That's for me to know and for those fiends to find out," Jack answered, "And I don't think I stuttered. Both of you, move."

Lena caught a quicker pace as Junkrat mumbled worriedly to himself, leaving Jack with Lucio and Jesse, the chef more concerned than the second mate. He gazed off into the distance where the clouds were gaining quicker upon them, nearly half the distance they once were, jumping back to attention as Jack spoke up again.

"Lucio, I need you on deck, with McCree as well. Make it look like it's not a set-up with just a single man aboard," Jack ordered, noticing his chef's fidgety pose, "You afraid?"

"Only of the idea of not seein' my kids again," Lucio admitted with a gulp, "That's, like, not of this world out there!"

Jack gave a weakly confident smile, reaching out to pat his crewman on the shoulder, "Don't worry. Whatever transpires, I have nothing but the safety of my crew in mind. Remember that."

"Y-Yes sir…"

"I'd give up  _my_ life before sacrificing any one of you," Jack confirmed, earning him a pleading stare from Lucio, "Now, head over to the crates and scratch some words out or something- Look busy, and hang on tight."

Lucio nodded, shuffling off as Jack turned to Jesse, "You do the-"

"You  _say_  you have the safety of this crew at your utmost portion of your mind," Jesse accuses with a defiant glance, "I know what's truly driving you."

"Get busy," Jack ordered coldly, turning to open the slit upon the wall that would allow for Hana to order him.

Jesse kept in step, "What about your daughter?"

Jack eyed him, "That stowaway might have given me a chance I never thought I'd have. I don't intend to throw it away."

"Your revenge will doom us all, Jack," Jesse seethed, " _You_ might have little regard for your crewmen, but goddamn, some of us have families to go back to!"

Jack's lips pursed in thought, though he hadn't a reply. Jesse reaches out and took his shoulder, pushing him backward until he stumbled, desperate to get his point across.

"If you have a choice- If that  _thing_ out there is chasing after our stowaway, give her up. But don't send us all to  _our_ deaths because of my sister's demise," Jesse pleaded with a cold voice, but to seemingly no avail.

Jack simply ordered once again, " _Get busy_ , McCree."

Jesse bit his teeth, but stepped away nonetheless, leaving Jack to his spot along the interior wall of the ship, opening up the slot that led down a hollow vent to Hana's communication's closet, closing his eyes in focus, knowing his life now relied on two crewmen, thought it should have been one. He knew he should be where Lena was now, manning the wheel, of his own ship no less.

Revenge was the only thing holding him back from that duty.

"IT'S CLOSING IN!" cried Hana from within the hole in the wall, "HARD STARBOARD,  _NOW!_ "

Jack threw his head up, shouting as loud as his lungs would allow, "HARD STARBOARD!"

At that, Lena's hands clutched the handles of the wheel, gripping them hard enough that her knuckles felt afire, nearly about to burst, and she threw her body to the side, spinning the wheel with all her might, staring over her shoulder where the ship had come from. She watched with wide eyes as she ship swung to the right, swaying uncontrollably from the sudden motion. She hadn't a clue whether it had worked, though in a split second, the ship shook violently, a sick  _CRRRASH_  blaring out as though the port side where sliding along a massive object, tearing lumber and railing from the Splitstream as the phantom ship materialized, sailing side to side along the ship, having just missed its target.

At the point of friction, sparks flew along the length of the ship, and green flames atop the ghost ship instantly scorched the Splitstream's wooden frame, leaving Lena scampering backward as sparks and wayward flames tore through the air toward her. As the sickly purple ship cruises past the Splitstream, Lena noticed the massive, thick plumes of smoke bellowing up into the sky along the entire port side, the phantom boat not having passed without some sort of damage.

Lena gasped, covering her face as the smoke began overtaking the stern side, forcing her away as she remembered her orders to literally hang out on the side of the ship, catching a glimpse of the ghost ship spinning around like a top, slowing up as if to link up with the Splitstream. She quickly headed to the side, though slid to a stop, noticing the smoke rising from the grates leading into the lower portions of the ship, particularly the hold.

"Fuck, Angela," she muttered to herself, eyeing a siphon hose nearby.

* * *

Jack stood with broadened shoulders, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, atop his ship that had come aflame, the lapping licks of orange having started on the port side were now rumbling throughout the back of the ship with not much of anything in between to cease its advance. Even still, Jack's eyes remained fixed on the sickly ship that glided toward the Splitstream's starboard side as the dark clouds encompasses the sky above even this ship, mixing with the dusky atmosphere to create a purplish-orange tint over the scene.

The ghost ship slowed to a halt, nearly meeting the opposite side of the Splitstream, giving Jack and his two up-top crewmen their first look of the pilot of the vessel: a black-cloaked figures, face hidden behind a pale white mask, sickening vapor rushing out beneath the bottom of his shawl of quaint hellishness. The figure stepped over from one ship to the other, watching Jack carefully, quickly identifying him by the pauldrons upon his coat, his seething voice like near-silent howls of the damned.

"Where's the woman?" he asked plainly.

Jack watched him with critiquing eyes, "On her way, I assure you."

The Reaper nodded, his mask not at all wavering from its intense stare upon Captain Morrison's face. Lucio kept a freakish stare upon the demonic being as well, crawling back behind a nearby barrel for any sort of protection, terrified by the idea of switching positions with his Captain, who stood toe to toe with that  _thing_.

Not merely remaining toe to toe, Jack quickly demanded, "That's my ship you have burning to a crisp, sir."

"Bring me the woman in a timely manner and I  _might_ find it within me to quench those flames," replied the Reaper.

Jack shrugged, "Pardon me if I don't find that convincing. You don't seem to have much of anything within you."

Without a sound, the Reaper seemed to shake at his shoulders, probably in amusement, "Such a wit, Captain-…"

"Call me Jack," he replied.

"Captain Jack," The Reaper acknowledged, "You're a difficult man to catch."

Jack nodded, "Well, I have deadlines."

"And I have the dead," the Reaper muttered, trying to get Jack to fully understand his position.

Lucio shivered with fright, huddling further behind his barrel before a sudden  _BANG_ arose his suspension. He stepped back to where he could see, his eyes widening as Angela appeared, her head down to watch their footing as she helped the stowaway out from the inside of the ship, thin plumes of smoke emerging from the doorway as well. Lucio flinched as Jesse stepped toward the two, grabbing hold of Angela's arm and yanking her away from the stowaway with such force that she left the woman she'd clung onto, Fareeha falling weakly to her knees as she turned to watch Angela disappear, the Captain's daughter unable to speak from the shock of it all.

"Stowaway," Captain Morrison spoke.

Fareeha raised a weak head, "Jack."

"I don't need to tell you why  _my_ ship of burning right into the sea, do I?"

The stowaway leaned to the side, catching a glimpse of the dark figure that stood half the ship's length beyond the Captain, her tone nearly still as her voice broke, "Blacktalon."

"Sorry," Jack shrugged, "I don't care what my daughter says; this ship is my life. If I have to give up a stowaway to save it, that's what I'm gonna do."

Jesse's arms wrapped fully around Angela, as though expecting her sudden outburst, the Captain's daughter immediately putting up a struggle as she fought to kick her way out of his clutches, ""Father! NO! NO!"

Her father only shook his head slowly, speaking evenly, "Sorry sweetheart. Stowaways'll tell you the same- we all got to pay the piper at some point. Just so happens that hers has come a-callin' on  _my_  Lady.  _My_ Splitstream."

The Reaper's mask tilted only slightly.

Jack's boots rattled as she stomped his way toward Fareeha, reaching down and grabbing her by the collar, crouching down to her ear, and whispering quickly as he merely appeared as though preparing to drag her along, "Show me your mettle."

Fareeha's brow spun upward with confusion as Jack stood, dragging her along the deck, her body too weak to resist, the Captain eyeing the Reaper as he did so.

"FAREEHA!" Angela cried out, "NO! HE'LL KILL YOU!"

As Jack dragged her near-lifeless body past Jesse's struggling frame, the stowaway's voice emerged with a snarky sort of tone, "Better me than you, Angie."

"N-NO!" Angela shouted aloud, furiously doing everything she could to escape Jesse's arms, kicking his legs as hard as she could.

Not a moment later, the Reaper's voice broke the air like an icicle tearing through the atmosphere and planting into each of their ears, "I see you've returned to me…"

"Call it what you want," Fareeha muttered defiantly as Jack dropped her close enough to the ghostly figure's vapored feet, the stowaway groaning with exhaustion, " _You_ had to chase  _me_ down."

Devoid of any emotion, much less shame, the Reaper only continued, "Have you what you've stolen from me?"

Fareeha sighed, reaching into her shirt and pulling out her necklace, though failing to remove it from her neck, "Yeah, I have it."

The very air around her spun unward, almost as though taking the shape of this dark being's grin, though it soon came to tingle Fareeha's skin, her eyes narrowing as her body began to levitate in compensation for her simply lying there, her frame spinning to match the Reaper's, leaving the few people on deck in total awe. Soon enough, the vial at her neck began to shiver to life as well, floating forward, nearly meeting the white mask of the invader.

Angela's eyes widened as a sudden, furious shiver ran throughout her body, causing Jesse some concern as he looked down at her, "Now quit that shakin', girl; to think you've caught a cold out here-"

"You don't feel it?!" she asked.

Jesse's shoulders fell with concern, his eyes retuning to the sight before him. The vial began to shimmer with a pale blue light, matching a faint, awestruck glow at the eyes of the Reaper's mask, the sleeve of his cloack rising toward the necklace's end.

"Yes," he muttered with a slightly musing voice, his first show of emotion, "So beautiful she is."

Suddenly he stopped. His darklit frame began to tremble, leaving Fareeha watching him with an increasingly pale face. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the vial as the pale blue orb within its glass confines began to spin with a noticeably purple tinge to it, as if two different colors had swirled into one. Fareeha gave a silent gasp before her body suddenly fell, collapsing into a weak form atop the deck as the Reaper's eyes began to glow with a red-hot intensity that stared down at the stowaway's limp body.

"Wh-What have you done?!" he demanded to know, shakily, "What have you DONE?!"

Fareeha stared at the wooden deck beneath her with confusion, unsure of what he was asking; unless, of course, she truly  _had_ stolen his lover's vial, only to have included Thal-… Her breath's hollowed, feeling a cold vapor closing in on her worn body, though by now, the frigid ice of atmosphere had numbed her to the point where she couldn't even make a weakened effort to escape.

Jesse's eyes widened, turning toward his Captain, whose hand remained steadfast within his pockets, the second mate muttering with a desperately low tone, "Jack, don't you dare- This isn't your fight!"

Angela's ears perked up, her head spinning toward her father, though by the time her eyes could rest upon him, his hand had left his coat, revealing one of the duelist pistols from the box within his quarters, Jack aiming it square at the dark collection of vapor that descended upon their stowaway, his voice emerging as a commanding sort of shout.

"Hands off!" he shouted, the Reaper's mask suddenly shooting upward to stare at him.

The pistol clicked as Jack armed its hammer, his eyes darkening with a pent up fury throughout seventeen years of existence, "I recognized your mask the moment you side-swiped  _my_  ship."

Now intrigued, the ghastly form began to retreat from surrounding Fareeha's unmoving body, the Reaper cocking its head sideways as though to examine the man before him, "Splitstream…"

"Seventeen years ago. August twenty-seventh, around two in the morning. I remember it so vividly," Jack muttered lowly, "My wife being torn from this ship's deck, lost in the dark of night. and the pale white mask that flashed in my mind at the sight of it all."

The Reaper shook its head, "When  _death itself_  forgets names, events; you should have let it go, Captain."

"Her name was Emmy. Emmy Morrison," Jack spoke with a shaking voice, his fury beginning to build, "And I've been trying to hunt you down for seventeen years."

With a devilish cackle, the Reaper mused, staring down at Fareeha, "The one running from  _my_ chase, comes aboard the one ship interested in hunting  _me_. I'm not buying your story, Captain; call back your bluff."

"Why not find out?" Jack challenged, waving his gun slightly, "These bullets have been blessed by the holy waters of Our Lady of Mercy's chapel; I'm sure you're familiar with it."

Angela's chest began to rush, knowing the bullets he was referring to were, in fact, blanks. He  _was_ bluffing, she knew; a thought that terrified her, having no idea what her father's game was in challenging this agent of evil.

Still, the Reaper seemed to cringe at the mention of the chapel, one that had accompanied Angela's bedtime stories as the place where Blacktalon had met his earthly fate. Her eyes hollowed as she watched the Reaper take a step back, seemingly in retreat, though his visage merely darkened before he spoke again.

"You want a battle," the Reaper spoke coldly, "You should know, I have an army."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we caught up with the prologue! and with only a couple of retcons!


	39. Fate, Luck, Even Bullets

Hana buried her face in the crick of her elbow, scurrying down into the hold to bring Junkrat up top in the face of this new conflagration of dange, only having caught him making his way down into the hold. She barreled down the staircase, finding the man crouched down between two cannons which, to her horror, were both aimed upward, toward the very deck of the ship. She quickly raised her arms in some attempt to stop him, causing him to lose his balance in shock.

"Quit it! Stop! What're you-?!"

Junkrat recoiled, pouncing toward Hana and covering her mouth with a shaking hand, his head quickly aiming back up toward the deck as he muttered quietly, "Shh! Cap'n's orders, sheila! I'm just- YEOW!"

Hana buried her teeth into the tender skin of his palm, forcing him to recoil in pain as she Officer snarled, " _Don't_ touch me!"

The cannoneer waved his hand to ease the pain, pointing upward as he explained in a spatter of frustration, "Even though I'm tryin' ya keep ya trap shut so we don't all get  _killed_?! That bloody fool up there's a damn ghost're somethin'!"

Hana peered up toward the even slays of dark light that peered through the lengths of lumber above her, replying, "Captain Morrison wants his cannons aimed at his own ship?! You've gotta wake up pretty early to-!"

She paused as Junkrat's face fell into a pale slate, his eyes widening as they peered over Hana's head, the officer spinning around to catch a glimpse of whatever had him in a tizzy, her eyes growing into wide orbs themselves at the sight of a pale purple haze that coalesced at the ceiling, fragments of sickly fabric sliding through the slate of lumber and wrapping around the darkening shade like clothing affixed to an invisible person.

"Th-The hell is that?!" Hana gasped as she quickly stepped back, running into Junkrat as the two watched in horror the showdown swirling around in a circle, almost as if examining the gunnery hold, leaving the two crewmen baffled by its sheer ineffability.

* * *

Jack's pistol remained fixed on the Reaper, his head downcast to allow his eyes just a hint of guidance down its sights, though he flinched at the sound of Jesse, his second mate gasping in surprise, "The fuck-?!"

Unable to turn away, Jack shivered at what lay behind him, though the shuffling of Jesse's boots meant his second mate was already sprawling into action, the seadog hooping over and stomping on a cloud of thick vapor that had appeared in the deck itself.

A dark, unmistakeable French, voice emerged, "Two cannons, fixed on this deck."

"Then make sure they don't go off," the Reaper ordered with a wry sort of tone.

Jesse's boots slid around, trying to halt the invading thing in the floor, though it quickly seeped through the deck and out of sight, leaving Jesse spinning around and ordering, "Lu! Get out here and wet the deck, quick!"

Lucio bounded our from behind the barrel and yanked out an assortment of rags from his pocket nervously enough, tossing a handful toward Jesse, who caught more than a few and traded some with Angela, "Keep it trapped down there; that Aussie bastard will think up a way to keep it-"

"Jesse!" cried Angela as a skeletal figure bounded across the opposing ship, landing behind the second mate and throwing a fiercesome elbow into the back of his head, sending him falling to the deck.

Angela recoiled at the jangling collection of bones behind a thick scarlet red cloak, a skull dangling lopsidedly until two boney hands reached up to spin it back into place.

"Ha HA!" mused the skeleton woman, "Street lessons for the dummies out there! Fight dirty, especially with the clearly more imposing-"

In a burst of retaliatory defiance, Angela dashed forward, covering her head as she tackled the skeletal being, hoping to dislocate whatever of its wiry frame as she could, though the cloak kept Sombra in place as the two tumbled to the deck. In the middle of the fray, Sombra had jumped atop of Angela, cackling happily as she threw her thin arms around, trying to claw at the woman beneath her as Angela pushed her away with her knees, bracing herself with both arms.

Jesse jumped to his feet, shouting at Lucio before dashing toward the skeletal frame, "LU! GO!"

Lucio swallowed his fear and dropped the rags onto the deck, warily skating around the deck, trying to wet the deck while also retaining some distance from their freakish foes, not daring to whet their appetites as well. Sombra laughed as she scratched what she could of Angela's body, though in an instant, Jesse pounced like a jaguar into her body, sending her flying, her skull skittering in the opposite direction from her body as both rolled along the deck unceremoniously.

Sliding to a stop, Jesse noticed the abstract disunion, quickly crawling along the wood below until he could push himself to his feet, Sombra's lifeless body doing much the same, it's feet clanging along the wood with hollow steps, Jesse's eyes keeping pace-

"BWAAAR-"  _CRASH!_

Jesse's eyes flew open as his feet slid out from underneath him, landing him on his ass as he looked over his shoulder with a frightful stare.

* * *

Lena froze, a costly error, she knew, given that she was literally hanging by the slightest impurities along the ship's side, her toes digging into an inch of lumber that had warped outward from the inner hull. Still, the growl she'd heard was of the pure ply evil sort, a kind of bloodcurdling yelp that shook the nerves of even the most devout toward gods. She took a breath, examining her current state, having worked her away along the outside of the ship nearly to its bow. She couldn't help but feel concern, deciding to worm her way upward for a peek at whatever horrors greeted her up above, frustrated that she wasn't involved to help.

She stepped up to the next ill-placed board, reaching for one of the ropes that was brought over the edge of the deck, meant to anchor the massive crates left on the deck's outer perimeter, using it to bring herself up, greeted only by one of the very same crates. She turned her body to peer around its side, her eyes widening at the sight of a ghastly looking spook of a being standing overtop their stowaway, unable to catch anything else from her vantage point.

Lena's hand came up to better anchor herself, sliding up the coarse, splintery edge of the crate she was currently taking cover behind, pulling herself ever so gently, tracing the border of the crate at the edge of her sight, trying to remain buried behind its solid face when she gradually realized that this incorporeal thing was along the deck in the crate's path, were it to slide along the length of the deck.

A wry grin emerged along Lena's face. Truly, as Captain Morrison had surmised, she knew exactly what wild thing to do.

She reached into her back pocket, slipping out a small pocket knife before sliding back down to the side of the ship, whipping out the blade as she began slicing away at the single rope keeping the crate anchored down, grinning with a sinister zeal as she worked the line with vigorous motions.

* * *

Jesse's eyes went wide as he scurried to his feet, diving as the ghoulish beast suddenly dashed toward the edge of the ghost ship, going airborne with the sort of body that could capsize larger ships with a precise landing. Jesse grabbed hold of Angela just as the beast slammed into the edge of the Splitstream, the entire ship tilting in a delicate balance, taking everybody's feet out from under them, save for the Reaper, who remained standing at the same upward angle that the deck now maintained.

Fareeha slid down toward the ocean below, directly into the ghoul's wingspan, though her separation from the Reaper allowed her control of her body, digging her boots into the deck, trying to slow herself as barrels and boxes fell into the water below, just avoiding the ghoul's body during its balancing act.

* * *

Lena's body went empty with that rush of guts that often comes with weightlessness, the g-forces nearly forcing her to puke as she ship went near-vertical. Her eyes reddened from the forceful motion; she just barely held on as the ship's ascent paused, throwing her body in a spiral anchored only by her arm which had wrapped up in the crate's line, leaving her hanging on for dear life.

She quickly stared down, watching everything on deck falling into the ocean, before noticing the very crate she'd been in the process of hacking at its rope dangling there, ready to be used as ammunition. Lena desperately worked her way up to the ship's side, taking her pocket knife into her fist and stabbing furiously at its wiry strands, gritting her teeth, knowing this was the best time to strike.

In a breathless moment, the rope snapped, brought to ruin by the sheer weight of the gigantic box, sending the crate careening down toward the ocean. The ghoul sneered with delight at Fareeha slid furiously down toward his open hand, the stowaway's eyes widening in terror as she neared his gaping maw of a hand, her body trembling in a moment as a humongous crate flew just by her, the last glimpse of the ghoul being it's surprised face right as the crate smashed into its body, launching his large body directly into the sea, sending the Splitstream back toward its normal orientation, sending a magnificent spout of water in the opposite direction as the ship reoriented itself.

* * *

Junkrat and Hana went sprawling across the gunnery hold, the ship's rapid changes in motion having left nearly everything against the wall, though now, every cannonball, the two free cannons, everything suddenly rolled the opposite direction, right toward the two of them, leaving Hana with a look of terror on her face. In a split second, Junkrat grabbed her, lifting her into his arms as he danced along the amassed amount of cannonballs rolling toward them, the gunner ducking and diving out of reach of the ones going airborne until he landed on his feet with only the two cannons barreling down toward him.

Hana's eyes went wide, though her guts went weightless as the man tossed her into the air, freeing his arms for him to corral one of the cannons, diving at one and wrapping himself around its muzzle, swinging it into place as its backside hit the side of the ship.

Hitting the floor, Hana stared up at the shade that swirled among the ceiling, almost curiously, though its voice escaped with a plain tone, punctuated only with a feminine, French accent, "Putain, so easy this was."

"Oh…yeah?!" Junkrat muttered in reply, massasing his arms as his muscles convulsed from exertion, "We're just gettin' started! Huh, sheila?!"

Hana shook her head, "N-No, I think I'm d-done…"

Frowning, Junkrat placed his fists on his hips, shrugging, "Oh c'mon, we can't give-"

"GAH!" muttered the shade, flying along the ceiling as if in search of something, whirling around from end to end, quickening its pace.

Junkrat watched curiously, with Hana soon following suit, her eyes narrowing in confusion at the shade's movements, when a drop of water fell onto her forehead, forcing her to examine the slats of wood further, noticing how drenched they'd become due to Lucio's swabbing. She threw her head toward Junkrat, catching his steely gaze that accompanied his slow train of thought.

"They're too damp for it to get through!" she shouted, "It needs air! We need to suffocate it!"

Junkrat immediately turned an about face, instantly eying a case of gunpower he'd managed to notice amidst his dodging, shouting to himself, "If ya' trappin inna cave-in, gunpowda'll- Well I don't remember the rest of the thing, but it's an old Aussie proverb we-"

"Junkrat!" Hana cried, hopping to her feet.

"Right!" he replied, looking around for something to transport the gunpower so as to not scorch his hands with an open flame, "Let's see…let's see…c'mon…c-"

"SQUEE!" came the tiny whine of Hammond, stuck in his tiny ball as he rolled furiously along the floor toward Junkrat, the hamster's plastic enclosure caught afire.

Without a second thought, Junkrat grinned, reaching down to grab the only portion of the ball not lit with flame, happily exclaiming, "Hamm'nd! Yer a genius!"

He dumped the hamster to the floor before cupping half the ball in his hand, dumping a handful of gunpowder into his concaved recess, the gunpower immediately catching fire and sparking with a furious intensity as the flames began licking at the oxygen surrounding it. The shade recoiled at the sight, its fabric shrinking into itself as if in defense, slinking back away as Junkrat walked closer with the bowl as if in offering.

"T'es rien qu'un petit connard!" the shade cried out.

Junkrat grinned, "You betcha! Fuck with tha Splitstream, will ya?!"

He waved the bowl from side to side, luring the shade back into a corner until it was trapped, Junkrat taking a final few steps until the ghostly shade began to evaporate, its tattered fabrics of makeshift clothing catching fire as the void shrunk further and further, until the flames from the gunpower had nothing left to feed off of.

Hana caught her breath, though Junkrat spun around, directing her this time, "Offica'! Up to the vent ya go! I need some direction if I'm gonna aim this thing properly!"

He dashed off toward the cannon he'd ensured as stopped its momentum facing the bottom of the deck, leaving Hana to cough as she moved toward the opposing wall, climbing up the ladder that led up to the trap door upon the deck.

* * *

Jack weakly pushed himself up, finding himself wholly disoriented from hitting the deck and having to catch himself twice as the ship ran back and forth. In a matter of a single moment, his mind clicked back on, his head turning back and forth to find his pistol, to no avail, his body spinning around onto his back, though his eyes narrowed defiantly as he found the Reaper standing above him, aiming his duelist pistol back at him, keeping the Captain pinned down. Jack showed his teeth as they barred like a trapped dog, earning him a sort of amused chuckle from the apparition.

"Very wily, your crew," the Reaper complimented, "But I don't think they can save you at this moment."

Jack noticed Jesse weakly crawling around to the back of the ghost, trying to get a jump on him, but to no avail, as Jack waved him off, "McCree, cut it out. There's nothing you can do."

Jesse came to a stop, his jaw fallen as his chest worked overtime with breaths, his eyes staring holes into the back of the Reaper's figure, much to the being's delight, "I must say, for all your defiance, I do admire a man who knows when he's lost."

Lowering his head, Jack chuckled, "It doesn't come naturally, let me tell you."

* * *

Hana's eyes peeked out just an inch off the deck, her hand waving Junkrat down as he knelt just behind his cannon. Her teeth chattered, knowing how she needed to act if her Captain were to… She refused to think it, though as a cold sweat ran down the back of her neck, she clutched her hand into a fist, silently awaiting the order to fire.

* * *

The Reaper's mask turned only slightly as the  _thud_ of Lena's body slipping back onto the ship from over the railing, nearly lifeless save for her rapid panting, the ordeal having taken its toll on her as well. The Reaper shook its head, signaled only by his mask's movements, turning back toward Jack with an admiring voice.

"They just appear out of nowhere," the thing noted, "Are they usually this prepared to die?"

Jack raised his eyes, "Only when their backs are to the wall."

He watched the dark vapor of the Reaper's hand slithering along the barrel of the pistol, coursing through the weapon's inner mechanisms, unsure at what devilish things where happening within its confines. He hadn't a clue what might have happened to the ammunition within- the blanks.

Angela sidled over to Lucio, the chef nursing a gash along his arm that he'd suffered during the near-barrel roll of the ship, though both of them had their eyes trained on nothing but their Captain, and Angela's father.

"I'd like to think I left them all with something that might have made them better people," Jack muttered, almost in a confession, "I wasn't always the best man, but I wanted nothing more than for them to be the best people they all could be."

"Cute," the Reaper muttered, fixing his aim, "There are no good people in hell. Those who are learn to be quite bad within a day. Have you ever been shot by a bullet blessed by the waters of Our Lady of Mercy? It feels like your skin being torn off, inch by inch, and your very soul shredded into bits."

Jack chuckled under his breath, grinning as he shared a glance with Jesse, "McCree. I'll never forget what you taught me."

The Reaper pulled the trigger.

"Even the impossible can exist. if you believe it to be so."

Nothing.

"Fate. Luck."

The Reaper's eyes began to glow red as he slid the barrel out from the gun's mechanism, watching the bullets fall to the deck, each and every one of them unmistakeably blanks.

"Even bullets," Jack finished with a defiantly boyish smirk.

The Reaper slammed the gun into the wood beneath him, the gun shattering into millions of pieces as plumes of red smoke poured out from beneath his mask, a voice rupturing from his bodyless form, " _You think you can fool death?!_ "

The Reaper stomped toward the Captain, shooting a vapored arm toward him, grabbing him by the throat and yanking him toward him, the two meeting face to face as the Reaper roared, "I'LL HAVE YOU TOO!"

Fareeha flew in from nowhere, though she was immediately tackled by Sombra, the skeleton rolling around with the powerful woman as the two wrestled, leaving Jesse to give a bestial growl as he pushed his muscles to the limit, fighting his very body to stand, his eyes bloodshot as his heart raced. He knew he hadn't the time, the Reaper materialized a dagger out from his body, throwing his arm back, prepared to bury it into Jack's body, the ghost swinging the sharpened weapon d-

Angela flew into the spectre's mask, sending the two of them flying across the deck, Jack's eyes bursting open wide in horror as he fell to his knees, unable to move. His throat dried, his fingers tensed his knuckles felt about to burst. The Reaper grabbed Angela, picked her up by the throat and threw her against the rotund mast in the front of the bow, the woman to terrified to act at the ghost wound up his arm again, fury pouring from his every ghastly, vicious orifice.

His hand flew toward Angela, when in midair, a hand flew up to meet the knife, the owner already able to figure they couldn't halt its momentum, but they merely redirected it, pulling it close so that it missed Angela by a hair, the dagger's blade embedding itself straight into Jesse's shoulder as the man gasped for a breath, the shock rushing through him as his knees immediately weakened, the Reaper's arm following him as he knelt down, his hand still tight around the dagger's handle, shared with the spectral grasp of this evil being.

The Reaper growled, "I don't give two shits  _who's_ first! You'll all-!"

Jesse bit down hard, his teeth nearly fusing, nearly shoving themselves back into his gums as his grip tightened, his eyes showing a determination characteristing of a feral beast as he pulled the the knife into him further.

"JESSE!" Angela cried with a horrified voice.

The Reaper watched with utter astonishment and confusion, unable to resist the pull of this old seadog. Jesse pulled his fist away and met the bare tip of the weapon, pushing it deeper into his shoulder until until it matched his skin, making it irretrievable as his shaking breaths pulsated in the wind, "F-F-Fuck y-you…"

The Reaper blew into a frenzy, blasting a ghastly pulse of energy before him, sending Jesse and Angela to the deck as he looked around and around, unable to comprehend the sheer insanity surrounding him. His body ceased to take on a human form, simply becoming a legless ghost as it floated quickly toward the first face it could find, Angela, careening toward her until a single word broke the being's concentration.

"MOIRA!" Fareeha shouted out, her foot pinning Sombra's skeletal body to the ground as she held out her necklace.

The ghost stopped in its tracks, not bothering to waste any of its rising demonic energy with speaking and simply cruising toward Fareeha at maximum speed. Fareeha's eyes narrowed, she brought the necklace to her lips before giving it a kiss, the final one she would ever share with her beloved.

She brought her arm up, the Reaper suddenly spouting out desperately, "NOOOO!"

With that, Fareeha threw the vial into the deck, shattering its tiny glass into bits along the wooden slats beneath her feet, sending the Reaper into a maddening flurry of demonic curses in tongues Fareeha hadn't been able to even comprehend. The ghastly being fell to the deck, its body covering the spill as if desperately trying to lap up whatever it could of the spill mass of two souls, furiously attempting to recover what he'd just lost.

Fareeha watched him with piteous eyes, "I gave up  _my_ past to move on. You should too."

If the ghost heard, it failed to acknowledge her, merely sucking at the wood beneath its form, trying to worm its etherial tendrils into every crack, every splinter, in a foolhardy attempt at finding the woman he'd lost centuries prior.

Jack turned to watch Fareeha, throwing his head to the side to signal for her to get out of the way, which she did, allowing the Captain to find Hana's face peeking out from just beneath the deck. He shut his eyes, knowing that his ship had been doomed since they'd brought this stowaway aboard, Fareeha, apparently, thinking of his wife, this ship. The world they'd built together. forever.

He took a deep breath, his voice dry yet full of drearisome intent, "Fire."

With that, it took only a second or two for the cannon below deck to burst in a hellfire of gunpower, the cannonball within shattering a massive portion of the deck, sending shrapnel skyward in an explosive cacophony of destruction, within which flyeth the shattered mask of the Reaper itself, the cloud of mess bellowing into the winds before finding its place among the ocean.

The Splitstream, Jack's home, was finished.


	40. Captain's Primage

Angela reached a delicate hand toward Jesse's shoulder, the old man seething painfully as she run a tender thumb around the torn skin surrounding the devilish-looking hilt of the Reaper's dagger, the second man merely grumbling between a weakened chuckle, earning a stare of pure ire from Angela, finding him to be rather careless at this moment.

"It's nothin', really," he assured, shaking his head as he noticed Hana scurrying toward him after having patched up Lucio's arm, the sea dog grumbling, "You too! It ain't nothin' I haven't-"

"Shut it!" Hana ordered, handing an alcohol-soaked rag to Angela to disinfect and keep the would clean as the officer prepared to dress it, "I swear, all you men are absolutely insane."

Jesse grinned, "Somebody's gotta be."

Simply rolling her eyes, Hana shook her head disapprovingly as Angela carefully ran the rag around the wound, happy that the knife hadn't a guard at the end of its hilt. She dug her fingers around the knife's end, trying to get the alcohol deeper into the red-tinged skin for disinfection while a splitting sound came from Hana tearing off a large bandage. Jesse's eyes wandered up toward their stowaway, Fareeha walking over with a small flask, bending down to offer some of the whiskey to the wounded crewman.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," she complimented, earning a grin as Jesse took a swig, "Not a bad partner to stupidity."

Hana frowned, "Except he's got a family waiting for him back home and he's still doing that shit."

At that, Jesse nodded, "I know what I'm doin'; don't confuse stupidity with- FUCK!"

Angela stripped the dagger out from Jesse's shoulder, the pain shooting through him like sharpened icicles jammed into his muscles, adrenaline unable to dull the pain this time around. He threw his hand up to cover his shoulder as he curled into a ball, shoving his forehead into his knee to try and numb the pain.

"Fuckin' mother of fuckin' god!" he exclaimed before Angela finally pulled his hand away so that Hana could reach over and bandage the wound.

Fareeha, standing over the whole scene, shook her head, "She went to a  _very_ shady nursing school."

"I can fuckin' tell!" Jesse cursed painfully, though Angela only shrugged.

"Distractions work wonders, trust me," she explained, turning over her shoulder to spot out her father, who'd enlisted Junkrat in helping to throw essential crates and barrels over onto the ghost ship, Angela speaking up with concern, "Father? Are we-?"

He eyed her, "This ship ain't gonna last long at all. I say we take what we can and get on somethin' seaworthy. You, stowaway."

Fareeha raised her head, her plain look forcing a sort of apologetic scowl across Jack's face as he reached up to scratch the back of his head, "Fareeha… You know about this sorta stuff, right?"

She shrugged, "Kind of. I mean, it might take a while to figure out, but-"

"Alright," Captain Morrison offered, aiming an arm toward the ghost ship, "Then would you do the honors?"

Angela's eyes widened as she turned to Fareeha, the tan of her face hiding the blush streaking across her face at the offer, one only given to captains, she knew, "W- I, uh-"

Jack shrugged, "I haven't a clue this side of the Galapagos. Might as well relinquish my post to somebody who's somewhat trained with such craft."

Fareeha hadn't an answer as her face simply remained in awe, though Angela quickly stood up and pushed her forward, offering her something in the way of direction. Fareeha acquiesced, though only slowly, stepping toward the edge of the burning Splitstream with an apprehensive gait as Jack leaned back, raising a hand to give further instruction.

"Hana, help McCree get on over here. Angela, you've got Lucio to assist, and Junkrat, hurry and give Lena some-"

"I got it, I got it," Lena murmured weakly, crawling on all fours across the deck, "Just because my legs are nearly dead doesn't mean I can't move."

Jack smirked, "I'd hate to see you try and crawl across the gap between the ships."

The woman stopped, groaning under her breath as her head shook lowly, "Junkie… Could you offer me a hand?"

"Well certainly, sheila!" Junkrat gave happily, rushing over to help Lena to her feet.

Lena advised, "Just don't give me the 'Angela treatment'; that crap looks painful."

" _I was helping_ ," Angela clarified as she helped Lucio to his feet, frowning as even he began to laugh at their chatter stop the deck.

Jack finished with the collection of barrels and small crates he'd had Junkrat bring over, tossing the final one over before turning toward the stern side of his Splitstream, which had now totally caught flame, the wheel with which he'd commandeered for decades now torched beneath the powerful flames that had nearly consumed his vessel. The ship had already begun taking on water, leaving it utterly unsalvageable, the captain's brow falling regretfully as Fareeha approached him, preparing to step across toward the ghost ship.

Without turning his head toward her, Jack muttered quietly, for only her to hear, "You've got heart. You're green still, but you've got heart. n' I don't doubt that you're a good person underneath the stowing away."

Fareeha watched him uncertainly, wary of his intent, though he merely asked, "You remember our promise?"

Her heart dropped, recalling their meeting in the hold. Their promise. Fareeha looked down at her feet, eying the two foot-long distance between the ships, knowing she'd promised that her relationship with Angela was to end as soon as she stepped foot from this burning wreckage of a ship's frame.

Jack gave her a glance that felt so empty as he spoke, "I hope you'll know what to do when the time comes."

Fareeha watched him with sheer worry in her heart, even as Jack waved for her to cross on over to the other ship. She did so with a weighted heart, taking the first step onto the ghastly wood of the adjacent vessel, finding it seaworthy even for the living. She quickly crossed at that point, turning around to help Jesse over as Hana released his arm from around her shoulders before hopping over the chasm next. She then helped Lena across, the British woman offering her thanks, and then Junkrat, and then came Lucio, leaving only Angela and Jack remaining on the Splitstream's torn to smithereen'd deck.

Watching with worry, Fareeha caught Jack's still-pensive glance back toward his ship, which Angela must have noticed as well. She reached her arms around his torso, embracing him tightly as she buried her face in his chest, misery setting in as she truly began to realize everything that was falling to scorched pieces around him.

"I'm so sorry father," she offered with an anguished tone, forcing her father's head to fall to meet hers, giving her a quick kiss at her scalp.

He admitted, "Don't be. It hurts, but- We all move on, sooner or later. Even your mother, I- I came to terms with that long ago."

Jack embraced his daughter, returning her tight hug before pushing her away, his smile saddened by the tears streaming down his daughter's face, "Go on. We haven't much time."

Angela lowered her head, both in misery and in care for where she stepped, gliding across the gap and into the arms of Fareeha as she pulled her close, taking her father's place in embracing her, which Angela allowed, reaching up to clutch her powerful arm around her. So lost in her sadness, Angela couldn't bare to raise her eyes, lest she find her parents' kingdom aflame once again, on the brink of destruction, her body shaking tearfully until a noice panged into her mind.

She heard a whimper behind her, Angela turning her head to find Hana with her arms crossed, her head buried low, tears falling from her eyes and onto the ship beneath her. The sight of such a strong girl so caught up in emotion, Angela quickly turned to find what had so taken her heart into wrenching guilt.

The air around Angela thickened, her lungs seizing up as she failed to take a breath. Captain Morrison, her father, his hands so characteristically ignoring his coat pockets and instead burying themselves into his breeches; the man had only a single foot across the chasm, pushing the ghost ship out beyond his reach, his body remaining squarely upon the conflagrated Splitstream.

Angela's eyes went wide, and in a desperate collection of emotions, she threw herself against Fareeha's grasp, her captor shedding a tear herself at the furious begging from within her arms, "Father! Fa-! DAD! Dad, please! Don't'-!"

Her throat choked up from the pools of water collapsing from her eyes as she desperately pushed herself from Fareeha's grasp, but to no avail, whimpering with anguish in place of words, crying uncontrollably as her father lowered his head.

"I taught you a lot about the sea, Angela," he muttered sadly, "I just never thought I'd have to teach you that a captain always goes down with his ship."

"DAD!" Angela begged through tearful pangs of voice, "DADDY, PLEASE DON'T! YOU DON'T HAVE TO! NO!"

Jack's shoulders fell before raising his head up one final time, "I do. I trained you up, and look around you. I made sure you had a mighty fine crew with you, as well. You all have a good-hearted captain, as well; 'n I know you all haven't gotten to know her, but- Angela's a good kid. She knows well enough."

"Daddy…" Angela whined collapsing within Fareeha's arm, "Don't leave me… Father!"

Her father smiled sadly, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I get to be with your mother again…"

He sighed, "Jesse will make sure you're safe. Lena, she'll keep your spirits up, 'n Hana will make sure you're all in line. Junkrat will- he'll do what he does best, and Lucio will keep you all together with a good meal. What more do you need, dear?"

"MY FATHER!" Angela cried out painfully.

Jack shook his head, smiling, "You don't need me anymore. You've outgrown me. You outgrew me fifteen years ago when you were throwin' sitters out the door like a bartender."

His head fell, "And you've got that woman right there who knows better than to keep her promise and let you jump on over here and throw your life away for an old man who wasn't even that good of a father to you all those years."

The air surrounding them thickened with silence, leaving Jack to mutter, "I do believe I'm asking you to take on my crew, Fareeha. I do believe a primage is in order to ensure their safe keeping, correct?"

Fareeha's eyes went wide with confusion, her throat dry as Jack eyed her, finishing the thought for her, "Why not take my daughter, then. You'll keep her safe, alright?"

"Of course," Fareeha muttered weakly, the moment having swept her up into emotions as well.

Jack nodded, "And you'll be there for her on those nights when she's torn up and crying, right?"

"Yes."

Jack paused, before offering sadly, "Thanks. That's more than I was ever able to do."

Her eyes so red and burned with tears, Angela had no choice but to shut them tight, burying her face into her hands, unable to watch her father slipping his coat off his shoulders, taking it into his hand and tossing it over for Lena to catch off the side of the ship. Jack gave his former crew one final smile as he took a step back.

"I'll be there whenever you need me," Jack gave with one final set of words, "I love you all. Don't forget that."

* * *

The Splitstream taking on water, Jack's boots waded through the foot-high water that now took on the interior of the ship as he made his way down into his quarters, its ceiling aflame as roils of fire still made their way along the ship. He struggled to take each step against the resistance at his feet, though eventually came to his desk, sliding upon the top draw to find a small painting that had been done of himself and his family when Angela was two years old, not long before his wife's death.

He smiled at his two girls, taking a seat in his chair while remaining fixed upon the painting, staring into his wife's eyes that held so much of her spirit even in something commission. He recalled, so easily, those eyes within which he would peer into during their most intimate moments, his wife's eyes that were only fixed upon Polaris. Jack grinned at the thought, thinking of her words.

"Only one fixes upon Polaris. I save them both only for you, my love."

His eyes fell meekly at such a thought, wondering if there truly were an afterlife whereupon he'd find her again. He knew he'd just seen devils, and demons, and skeletons, and yet… He couldn't be sure. Not when his wife's soul could be condensed into something as small as a necklace. Not Emmy's. Not somebody whose soul could have wrapped around the entire sea with how large and wonderful it was.

He shut his eyes then, allowing himself into a world where he could see that woman again, where he could be with both her and their daughter, remember those most magical of days where they were both home and able to lie in bed endlessly with their toddler of a daughter napping so peacefully between the two of them after some rambunctious activity had awoke the two parents anyway. They would have to choose which one would get up and find their daughter tangled with the drapes or coiled with some wayward piece of clothing while the other could return to sleep- though Jack never would. He couldn't sleep knowing his wife was awake, her beauty in need of somebody to stare upon, endlessly.

"I always liked that painting," came a voice from behind Jack, seemingly within his reality, though he didn't dare to open his eyes to find out.

Anything can be real, should you believe it hard enough.

Jack muttered behind closed eyes, "It can't compare to you, though."

"How would you know?" came the voice, a childish laughter accompanying such a feminine giggle, "You're not even looking."

Jack paused, unwilling to simply take himself away from such a visceral moment, "I can't."

"Why not?"

He confessed, "I'm afraid."

" _Afraid_? This is my husband we're talking about, right?" the voice inquired humourously.

Jack chuckled, "Losing you once was a pain I could travel the world a thousand times and not replicate. I wouldn't dare risk feeling that again."

The voice didn't return, not for a time, though Jack could almost feel a gentle presence circing around in front of him, that same voice that gave him comfort in his darkest nights emerging in a whisper, "You can trust me."

" _I'm afraid_ ," Jack repeated with a tinge of shame, the feeling of baring everything for this woman having become such a foreign feeling to him in the years since she'd pass.

In that moment, he felt warmth surrounding his neck, the most gentle pair of lips crossing over onto his- a feeling he couldn't have forgotten had he tried.

"Trust me, my love."

Jack trembled with worry, his eyes cracking open slowly, prepared to feel his heart tearing from him, though that never came. Before him, as if sitting upon his lap, straddling him with two arms around his broad shoulders, was his wife. Emmy. Her eyes peered into his with a downturned head that seemed to convey embarrassment.

"Oh, Emmy," he spoke with a shaking voice.

He threw his arms around her, pulling her close, burying his face into her shapeless bosom that remained as warm as those nights he'd thought were lost forever. Emmy held his head there with softened eyes, lowering her face to match his scalp, kissing his head and catching so much less hair on her lips than she'd been able to seventeen years ago, a fact that both amused and delighted her, knowing that her husband had remained alive to raise their daughter.

"You did a fine job," she approved of his parenting, leaving Jack to pull his head away, staring up to meet those eyes with a quivering voice, "Really?"

Emmy nodded, "I never stopped watching you two."

Jack's heart broke in the most soul-warming of ways, a smile appearing across his face, "I never stopped loving you."

"I know," she answered, "Let's forget the stars now. My eyes need to stay on you now, forever, you scruffy old man."

Jack chuckled, though before he could reply, everything went dark. So lost was he within his wife, he hadn't known whether the sea or the flames had taken him. But so far as he knew, his wife had taken him, once again, into her soul; just as she'd taken him into her bed many years ago, and taken him into her heart.

He was home.


	41. Unto the Endless Horizon

Angela stared out into the vast ocean before her, bracing herself with her arms as she leaned over the bow, reaching up to grab the collar of her father's coat to pull it further over her shoulders. The chill of the ocean breeze had overtaken her exposed skin, the bite of cold doing its best to distract her. Even now, a week having elapsed since that tumultuous night, her mind was almost constantly on her father, something that the rest of the crew had understood plainly enough not to question as they worked to familiarize themselves with this strange vessel.

In those days, the dark shroud of mist had left its immediately atmosphere, taking with it the ghastly look of the wooden ship. As if the sickly state of the boat were merely a paint job, the stripped wood soon enough rotted away in a gradual fashion, leaving the ship looking not exactly pristine, but nothing so evil-looking, a sight that had left Hana the most relieved.

In addition to the crew needing to familiarize themselves with the unfamiliar ship, exploring its every nook and cranny and finding so much of it to be quite unorthodox, not the least of it being the giant hole in the hold that allowed them a view of the ocean below, but they also were under the direction of an unfamiliar captain in Fareeha, who also had little in the way of familiarity with the crew, save for Angela, who for her part was too lost in grief to help.

Fareeha did her best to get to know her crew, and save for the two holdouts on her being kept aboard and not  _killed_ , she managed some sense of acquaintancy, leaving only Junkrat and Hana remaining skeptical of her. Hana was cordial enough, placing enough respect on the decision of her late captain, though Junkrat was quite belligerent about the whole thing, though that easily was exacerbated by the loss of his prized cannons to the deeps below. Not wanting to force the issue, fully expecting most of the crew to walk upon reaching port, Fareeha merely did her best to accommodate the lot of them, doing what she could to only suggest orders rather than give them.

Lost to the ocean breeze, Angela's eyes remained still upon the horizon, recalling that night her father had caught her so obstinately trying to learn the sextant, his coat now only doing a poor job at replicating his powerful arms that so secured her as a child, feeling as though nothing could do her harm at his protection. Still, the coat kept his familiar scent, and was heavy enough to give her some idea of the embrace of her father, offering som slight comfort.

Without moving, she noticed Fareeha approaching her from the side, the tanned captain turning around to lean her back against the bow's edge, crossing her arms with a sigh, "Well, a week in and we finally found the storeroom. I don't know if this was a smuggler ship or what, but there's more nooks and crannies than a trap room."

She lowered her head as she fiddled with the skin around her thumbnail, "We caught some fish, too. You should've seen the look of Jesse's face; he looked like a child during the holidays."

Fareeha chuckled under her breath, guiltily coming to a pause as she noticed Angela's seeming disinterest, her voice speaking up tenderly, "Look, uh- I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that. I mean, I do, but- somebody you've known your whole life. My parents were kind of asses, so I didn't exactly have much to-"

She paused to better compose her thoughts, turning toward Angela with a soft glance, "What I'm trying to say is, you know, I'm here for you is all."

Angela didn't reply as she simply remained staring out to sea, hear head finally turning to give Fareeha something of a sidelong glance, her voice emerging with a contemplative softness to it, "Did you feel the need to clarify that?"

"Well, I mean," Fareeha paused, shrugging before shoving her fists into her pockets, staring down at her feet nervously kicking at the deck beneath her as she buried her head between raised shoulders, "Whatever we had back there- I just didn't feel comfortable being… I guess being that  _close_ , you know?"

She frowned, "Its just sort of a new world now; I didn't know if we were still anything or- Look, I'm just offering any help I can give; is that such a big deal?"

Fareeha turned her head slightly as though to hide something crimson across her face, leaving Angela with the smallest of unseen grins, her eyes trailing down from the horizon to watch her hands atop the ship's edge, absently scraping a crease within the wood with a nail. Her silence worried Fareeha, even if she did her best to hide such things, though Angela soon enough spoke to quell those fears.

"You know, it took me all of three hours to realize that my father wouldn't have wanted me to grieve for him. He would've chastised me and told me to get back to work or something;  _'don't waste time on me when you've got yourself to worry about'_  or something like that, probably knowing I was prone to… Well, I'll just say it- prone to bouts of rambunctious behavior," Angela surmised without much emotion in her voice, biting her lip in thought.

"I knew that, but… I couldn't help grieving, even knowing he would have disapproved of it," she muttered quietly, "I don't know. Maybe that's just what we do."

Fareeha turned to watch her, "Even if he would have disapproved, I'm sure he wouldn't have loved you any less were you to do so. I mean, he seemed like a stand-up guy from all I ascertained from him. That kind of unconditional love- you know, not a lot of people know it, even if it gets bandied around so often."

"You kind of disobeyed him when you made it a point to know  _me_ more," Fareeha shrugged, her brow raising quizzically, "And you kind of  _super_ disobeyed him when you decided to- Well, you know. He didn't love you any less then; I doubt the same wouldn't be true if he knew you needed time to grieve."

Angela eyed her, "Didn't you need time to-"

"Nah, I've already gotten past all that," Fareeha admitted, "Look, Thalia was a wonderful person, and at one point my one true love. but I wasn't doing myself, or the memory of her, any favors by clinging onto the past.  _I_ needed to move on just as much as she did."

Fareeha leaned forward, sighing deeply before bringing her hands up to her face, running up and down her skin with tire, complaining to herself, "Ugh, this ship is gonna be a pain to run. Thank goodness it's only until we hit port. We've all already decided to just sell this hunk of junk and divvy up the earnings; I don't know, I figure they'll all get together and return home, but- My stop is 'far away', so. Indonesia or China sorta fits that bill."

With a solemn air, turning around and leaning her back against the side as well, Angela crossed her arms as she asked, "You're not gonna try and keep 'em all together?"

"Pfft, fuck no," Fareeha replied incredulously, shaking her head, "I'm their stowaway, nothing more. Sure, I'm going through the motions, but any and all respect I've been given belongs to their former captain, not me. No, I'm a lone wolf anyway; I'll make do on my own once we hit port. You have the coat, I dunno; maybe you can pick up where your father left off, but not me."

Angela's eyes turned up with a telling curiosity and she asked simply, "Well, what about  _us_?"

"Fuck, Angela," Fareeha groaned, rubbing her face again, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

Her cohort grinned, tilting her head knowingly, "You were just concerned whether or not anything had changed between us."

"I knooow, but that was more about any awkwardness that might arise," Fareeha complained, lowering her head defeatedly.

Angela watched her with near-amusement, smiling lightly. Her arms slithered out from its crossed pairing, allowing her elbow to reach over and lovingly tap at Fareeha's arm, earning a curious glance from the tanned woman, staring confused as Angela released a telling grin.

"I still think you're rather beautiful," Angela noted lightly, leaving Fareeha to groan painfully.

"Look, Angie," Fareeha explained, "I get that I was the freaky little caged animal you were able to tangle yourself up with. Happens to everybody at sea; you get men out here starting to look at other dudes after swing nobody else for months at a time- I only look good because I was the only one you  _could_ look at."

She turned toward Angela, "Out there, you could find- What?"

Angela grinned, "You called me Angie."

"Goddamn," Fareeha sighed defeatedly.

Angela smirked, nearly giggling as she reached out a hand, pinching at Fareeha's side, forcing her to try and shoo her away, "I would follow you out to sea."

"Quit it!" Fareeha shouted between ticklish giggles of her own.

"Why would I also not follow you to bed?"

Finally escaping her pinches, Fareeha replied with incredulous zeal, "That's totally  _not_ the kind of loyalty I would expect from an entire crew."

"Nor would I want you to," Angela explained wryly before turning toward the rest of the ship, "You made a promise to my father."

Fareeha's face fell, expecting a guilt trip to follow, though Angela merely smiled toward her before concluding, "But I don't expect you to honor it if you choose not to. I'm slowly moving past my father, and I can move past you if need be."

"Like you said, this isn't the Splitstream anymore," Angela nodded, "A different ship might as well be a different world. If you want to leave us, that's fine; nothing will be awkward, I won't be vengeful. You know, what we shared will just be a fond memory that I'll cherish forever."

Angela finished quietly, "Just, you know- Don't lead us on if that's what you'll do. They don't need a captain that disappears.  _I_ don't need a lover that disappears. That's all I ask."

She smiled lightlessly at Fareeha, "You can still call me Angie though; I quite like it."

Fareeha lowered her head in thought, her face darkening into almost a brooding state as her mind worked gradually. It was wine thing to be asked to be a friend or a lover, but to be a captain? A leader of people? Her time on the Raptora, it was merely she and Thalia, the crew were wholly, and often, expendable. Here? If she took on this woman whom she found to be so beautiful, such responsibility would weigh upon her, she knew. Had she even the ability?

"Ahem," came a lowly feminine voice, jolting Fareeha from her reverie, staring wide-eyed at Hana Somg staring a few paces away, her eyes curled in impatience, "I'm not…interrupting anything, am I?"

Fareeha blushes, unable to figure at what point Hana had entered the two's range of volume, though Angela easily assisted with a quick, "No, you're fine, Officer. We were just talking about my father."

"Ah," Hana replied with a lowered head, a hand reaching across her torso to grab hold of her opposing arm, "Well after the storeroom, we managed to find some some vittles within its pantries, namely some cured meats and salt-preserved stuff, but it looks ghastly. Junk- Jamie and Jesse are all for gouging into it all, they're sick of the stores from the Splitstream, but Lena and I am opposed and Lucio started tearing up at the thought of working with any of it."

"Basically, we're at a vote," Hana explained, crossing her arms as she stared off nervously, avoiding Fareeha's eyes, "Three to two against touching the stuff. Jesse insisted I get you two's-"

Angela grinned, "I'm for."

"You're  _what_?!" Hana exclaimed in shock.

"Guess you'll have to break the tie," Angela muttered with a smirk, goading Fareeha into some kind of leadership role.

Such a thing brought a roiling to Fareeha's stomach, giving her a worried frown as she quietly mumbled to herself nervously. She knew what Angela was doing, trying to stop the democracy aboard and get Fareeha to assume a captaincy role, forcing her to make her decision now, rather than later. Such a thing frustrated her, though given her own mind games meant to trip Angela up, this sort of thing wasn't exactly unheard of between the two of them.

"Eh, uh…" Fareeha muttered, suddenly with a scowl on her face, "Of course were not going to touch it! God knows where that shit's been!"

Hana eyed Angela with a bemused look, "Try telling hat to  _her_ …"

Though meant rhetorically, Fareeha still turned to Angela with an authoritative stare, "We ain't touchin' it! We'll go hungry before we go with some devil's ulcer!"

Angela grinned, throwing an open hand up to her forehead in salute, "Yes, Captain!"

Hana watched the entire pantomime with unenthused eyes, groaning fretfully as she turned to leave, "I'll let them know, captain's orders."

"Thank you," Fareeha nodded, "And, uh, Hana?"

The officer flinched at being referred to by her name by Fareeha, a starlight-like state reaching over her shoulder as a sweat built up at Fareeha's neck, forcing Angela to swoop in once more, "Officer Song?"

"…yes?"

Fareeha cleared her throat, "Uh, yes, Officer Song. Have you a chart handy?"

"I do," she answered lowly, pulling out a slip of folded up paper from her back pocket, unfurling it for Fareeha to examine.

The lone captain nodded, examining the map before pointing out, "The Philippines , here; we can stop there to restock before hitting port in Nam Hà, correct?"

"…I suppose," Hana confirmed with a suspicious tone, "Why..?"

Fareeha shrugged, "Well, everybody's hungry enough to consider consuming food that's been flayed by the undead. I'll get with Lucio and we'll count our stores; let's make something of a nice dinner for this evening."

A single brow arose upon Hana's face, indicative of her interest, and she slowly muttered under her breath, "…seriously?"

"Look, I know I'm a stowaway, or  _was_ \- we're all stowaways now, if you consider the ship we're on. I know you all don't really know me, or care to. What I  _don't_ know is whether or not I have any interest in remaining as I am," Fareeha admitted cooly, "But we've got another month or so on this ship, we might as well get to know one another a bit more. Maybe things change by the time we get to port, maybe not; but regardless, we might as well not just mull around conversation in the meantime."

Still skeptical, Hana nonetheless pursed her lips as she nodded, turning away, "That's…something I could see doing, myself."

Fareeha smiled, "Awesome."

"I'll go, uh, let them know," Hana finished, almost in surprise at the behavior of the woman who'd just tied down for the better part of the last few months, her small boots pattering along the deck until she disappeared into the ship.

Angela grinned, "So..?"

" _So_ , what?"

"I've got you, hook, line, and sinker, huh?" Angela teased, sticking her tongue out.

Fareeha shook her head, "I haven't agreed to a thing. I do know that I still find  _you_ rather beautiful as well. Maybe I just don't want to be on your bad side for the next month."

She shot Angela a sidelong glance, just hiding her teasing smirk, "Maybe I just want to kiss and run still. Just maybe, I'm still a scoundrel, prepared to tie you all up and leave you all for dead for doing the same to me."

"You're in too deep, now," Angela replied with a wry sort of smile, "You were in too deep when I slapped that crate you were hiding in back in San Francisco."

She leaned in closer, until her shoulder managed to close the gap between the two of them, "And you were far too deep that night we made love."

"Ah, that's right," Fareeha recalled with a swashbuckler's grin, as though she were prepared to swing the two of them clear across the ocean if need be, "Beautiful, and a cunning linguist at that."

"And a little stubborn," Angela noted, helpfully.

"And a bit stubborn," Fareeha advised.

"Only a little bit."

Fareeha's lips crept upward, "Not helping your case."

Their eyes met with anticipatory gazes, knowing their games were far from over. Angela hadn't to move any closer, for it was Fareeha that allowed her shoulders to dip downward, bringing her face down to meet Angela's in a gentle kiss before wrapping a powerful arm around her to pull her in closer, their bodies matching not only by their lips but in warmth as well.

"Where would we go?" Angela asked, staring into those eyes as powerful as the arm holding her.

"Wherever you want," Fareeha answered, "However far this ship will take us, as long as those people down there arguing over eating ghoul-jerky will accompany us."

Angela grinned, "They mean well."

"I know; that's what frightens me," Fareeha admitted with a chuckle.

Angela lowered her head to stare into that woman's wide chest, gently pushing herself into that neverending space of warmth and safety, "Wherever I want?"

"Wherever," Fareeha repeated, "…Princess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's a story! Thanks to everybody who made it this far- I know it's been a doozy, but I hope it entertained throughout :) Aside from some of the disjointed action scenes, I can't wait to come back and re-read this myself in the future; unlike most of my stories where there are bits and pieces I probably wish were vastly improved, or removed, I can't think of any scenes in 'Primage' that I'd do over, or hate to return to.
> 
> It was a very complete story, I thought, with stuff laced throughout: the symbolism of knots binding people together, themes of belief making the impossible seem far more real; I probably could have played Jesse's perceived bad luck into Fareeha's actual bad luck- to clarify, it was Fareeha's connection to the Reaper that made them unable to catch fish, though that was supposed to tease Jesse, and the reader, into thinking Jesse was legitimately snake-bit instead of Fareeha. Hopefully tricking the reader into thinking Fareeha's necklace was the titular 'Primage', when it really turned out to be Angela ;) I even got a Coheed and Cambria lyric in there somewhere- see if you can find it ;p And look, unto the final line, Angela and Fareeha are continuing their games. How cute :)
> 
> Oh, and "We're all stowaways now" -Not Jack Morrison
> 
> I WOULD change Jack's wife's name. For whatever reason, I forgot that 'Emmy' is NOT the same as Emily, Tracer's girlfriend, but early on in the story, Lena DOES refer to Emily as 'Emmy', which she wouldn't at all do if she already was a crewman under an Emmy, who died. Yeah, I screwed that one up xD
> 
> After this, I do have an epilogue upcoming, though it's totally unrelated to the main cast. It's meant to be more humorous, and it does resolve oooone little, teeny plot point left in this story- can you guess what it is? :p Beyond that, I would truly love to get back to Warcraft and do my 'Eldris/Cayssarin' backstory- I have visions of it melding together Asimov's and Lovecraft's styles (one of my favorite things about Warcraft is that it's definitely medieval-based, but it also has a cosmic, sci-fi background to it, which I've always found wholly interesting- plus, the idea of the Illidari being legitimately 'alien' and 'eldritch' to the night elves; there's a lot of ideas there)
> 
> That being said, I'm near-constantly thinking of, and imagining, the final two parts of my big Overwatch series, so I might just continue that and get everything out of my head xD If you've read what I've written so far, you have ZERO idea what's coming, let me tell you :p Though I also want to finish my backstory-story, so I dunno; I may finish the epilogue here and take a week break and see what I'm feeling then :p
> 
> In any case, thank you so much for any and all support you all have given me :) I still cannot describe how it feels knowing there are people out there who are actually interested in something of mine; it's just an amazing thing to see people actually giving me the time of day, so thank you for all of your kind words in the review and comments, both on FF and AO3; it means so much more to me than you all may ever know :)
> 
> Until next time...


	42. Epilogue: The Journal of Seymour S. Wrightmann

**_The following account comes from the journal of Colonel Seymore S. Wrightmann, an explorer in the late 1600's that hoped to travel the Pacific in search of unknown islands where treasures could be found. The journal had been lost under mysterious circumstances, but had been recovered and sold at auction at the Numbani Heritage Museum, sold for quite a bit of money, perhaps due to the single strange encounter that Wrightmann documented, which has forever inspired mystery and, for some, downright insanity…_ **

* * *

 

7/25

Having been four months afloat, my spirit was tested again today by bouts of doubt in this journey. My navigator had assured me that we would find  _some_ kind of landmass along this parallel, though nothing as come from his predictions. I remained holed up in my quarters, unable to bring myself out from my bed, knowing just how much of my livelihood relies upon this journey, which I'll recall here; as you know, Leatty, my therapist suggested keeping lists as a way to ease my thoughts.

-My home was sold

-My possessions, namely my inheritance from my father, a collection of prized tapestries from Persia, were all sold

Both of these meant to finance both this ship and this journal

-My typewriter was also sold, which no doubt affects you most, Leatty; my penmanship has yet to improve during this journey

-My fiancée broke our engagement, on the chance I do not return, or if I do, I'm no longer a proper man to wed

-My two dogs no doubt believe I have died, though that varies little from a normal work day

I fear my concerns will grow, Leatty. Do not think my writings are mere drivel; it remains the best parts of my day.

* * *

 

7/25

I've returned from the mess, having consumed a light portion of salmon and a generous helping of glances from my crew. I fear they may mutiny, though my mates all assure me that is my paranoia speaking.

I am eager to believe them. Unless they plan of mutiny themselves.

* * *

 

7/27

I pulled out my old journals, kept during my days as a deckhand myself, though time was fleeting in between work and sleep. I found humor in my entries, which were oftentimes simply one-or-two long descriptions of my mood after the lengthening days. My mother suggested documenting my journeys for her to read upon my return, though I doubt they would have entertained. If anything, they would have compelled her to put me in shackles until the ship's all left the local harbor, keeping me home.

I wouldn't know, Leatty; in case you weren't aware, she passed before reading any of your predescesors. The fact that I retain my old journals should keep you confident of your own longevity.

Leatty Sr. has kept me company since my earliest days, though, I must admit, there are days where I believe his pages to be rising and falling, speaking to me.

I find it prudent to find human company whenever such phenomena arises.

* * *

 

7/28

A band of dolphins accompanied our ship.

Clocked it at a minute and fifteen seconds.

Not a new record.

Shame.

I like the things.

* * *

 

8/4

I made a trip to the hold to gain account of my below-deck activity, assured by Gerald that our archaeological equipment wasn't damaged by the storm the last two days. Upon my own examination, I noticed quite a bit of the equipment had been damaged while tossed about, though my mates assured me my paranoia was at work once again. I hadn't been to my cabin to sleep, much less write here, for three days while the ship was wracked by thunderstorms, so I hadn't much to deny their opposition to my examination.

* * *

 

8/4

Noticed a crack in the deck where a large stone seems to have smashed into the side of the ship. Fearing my own jumbled, tired sense, I brought Marcol over to check and he noticed it too. Giddiness endued; where else could a stone come from but nearby land?

I brought Jessiman over and assigned him the task of repelling down and retrieving the stone, calling upon my two-days worth of geological study before departure. Jessiman often traveled the Yosemite cliffs, so trusting in him, I returned to my quarters to write this while he and the crew did so.

In short, if a smooth stone, it's been worn by erosion, and could merely be a sea rock. If cragged, land may yet be on the horizon. Dear Leatty, were we to find land, I haven't a clue how far my heart would fly! What treasures may

**_*the script ends abruptly, continuing at the end of the same page as if in post script*_ **

I have assigned Kitzmer to retrieve the stone. We are now down a deckhand.

* * *

 

8/5

Got well deserved sleep. Woke up to find the stone recovered, though quite an odd thing it was. It was the size of a small jar, and while smooth, it bore the unmistakeable marks of being marked upon, laced with pictures of stick-figures humanoids with speech bubbles, though within them was a jarbled mess of a primitive language that none of the crewmen could decipher.

The rock's purpose seems unknown, though I've added Faulkner to the best to assist Victor, just in case some sort of landmass appears upon the horizon.

* * *

 

8/5

Lost in the curiosities of that stone, I nearly forgot that today is Julianne's birthday. The sun nearly appears to darken outside of her presence. Despite a tattered engagement, I cannot merely forget much of anything about her- even her little annoyance seem far more enjoyable, now having lived without them. Her dallying gait, her propensity for the highbrow, her dainty little snores in the night. I do miss them all, having now remembered how lacking life is without them.

* * *

 

8/6

Heartbreak

* * *

 

8/13

Leatty! Victor has spotted land! As of noontime, August 13th, we are on the brink of landfall! prepared to make our riches upon this foreign soil! I must make haste in writing this, but do know, Leatty, you'll get lost yourself in the magnificent library I'll have within my own mansion walls!

* * *

 

8/14

We came upon the landmass. Turned out to be a floating mass of debris, eroded and out at sea for god knows how long. Replaced Victor with Samir.

* * *

 

8/17

This journey grows wearisome.

* * *

 

**_*a page has been torn out without much care, leaving a large leaflet hanging from the spine, though it's text is illegible*_ **

* * *

 

8/28

A week ago, my mates voiced their concerns regarding rationing stores. While I'd planned enough for the length of entire circumnavigation of the Pacific, it seems a pair of rats have made their home in the hold, my mates surmised. I couldn't help but ascertain that the rats had nibbled through solid and oaken barriers, though they all voiced equal concern about the state of my own paranoia, recommending I come write, though I had little to say.

Lost with nothing to speak of, I recalled coming up with a theory pertaining to light and how it must certainly be measurable, and if so, must be faster than anything else we humans have any reason to ever imagine. Though, upon review, they do seem the musings of a madman, and I do apologize for violently stripping that page from you, Leatty.

In addition, our stores seem to have lessened since my mates brought up the thing with the rats. I caught Tarheel with crumbs running down his lips, though he was clearly concerned with my state of mind, and I sincerely hope this journey's tolls don't wear on me further. Were I to bring home all the riches in the world to lay at Julieanne's feet, what good would her love be if I haven't a mind?

* * *

 

8/30

In considering ration arrangements, I began ordering our mess cook to cut our potatoes and vegetables into longer, but thinner, strips, hopefully to fool the crew, and my own self, into believing we've eaten more than we actually have. Our code word for doing this, lest the crew find out, is 'julienne', a loving tribute to my love, around whom this entire journey revolves. Were she to know what perils we face now, I would hate to believe she worries.

* * *

 

9/2

Land is within sight, though I'm far more skeptical this time around. Samir and Faulkner are capable enough, though I thought the same of Victor, so I will impede any and all bouts of elation at this moment.

Last night, Derby began speaking of the wenches back home that he would carouse with, getting the rest of the crewmen riled up as well. With Derby unaware of Brewster's teenage daughter at home, he cause an even further stir when Brewster tore through the mess, trying to pelt Derby with his two fists, causing an uproar that I was only privy to after the fact. Jeremiah put an end to it on his own, a more loyal mate I dare not ever know, and assured me that he would keep the talk of women more respectful should Brewster be around.

I did make it to the mess for some julienne'd carrots and potatoes, though by now, meat is few and far between on the menu. It ebbs and flows in time with the amount of fish we're able to hoist on up.

Speaking of, I hadn't a clue that Giles could, and certainly would be happy to, eat a raw fish, scales and all. Such a frightening sight; I dare not recollect it any further.

* * *

 

9/3

Land is indeed in sight! Praise be! We're but an hour or two away, Leatty, and while I might be busy, I would much like to recount our adventures as they unfold, when given the time. Writings may be scarce, but I'll summarize as best I can, assuming such time is even available. We're after riches, treasures- not feral beasts or starvation. There's enough of that back home.

* * *

 

9/16

-Camp up

-Initial survey proved fruitless

-Will expand territory as we go

* * *

 

9/20

Leatty, this island is wonderful. So much in the way of exotic foods, coastal fish; it seems to have everything BUT golden-laced rocks or other trinkets capable of excising from the rocks here.

Victor and Humphrey have gone out to scout ahead, tracing around the island's coast first. Hopefully there will be something to keep our hands busy as we stock up for out trip home.

Our mastman, Alfie -the dull one- has rummaged through the brush up the shoreline and found some seashells that might prove valuable to some child back home, but hopefully it won't be long before we're carrying treasures that a king would happily compensate us to enjoy.

Dinner was julienne'd potatoes, celery, and some sort of flat fish that Alfie -the dull one- and Smith-Bannister both claim transformed before their very eyes as they were fishing, as though it had gone from flat-bodied to rotund, with spindly bits, as they said.

Hopefully it tastes as good as it sounds entertaining.

* * *

 

9/20

Alfie has died of some toxin or poison. We've eliminated all stores of that flat-fish. Samir was helping teach the crew how to expel their bile should they encounter another meal so deadly.

* * *

 

9/27

A week has passed, and so sign of Humphrey or Victor. Tobias is convinced that they've met some dastardly fate, though some others, namely Isaac and Oswyn both knew the two men well and vouch for their tenacity and survivability. I head whispers of an impending vote on what to do, though was never made aware of such a thing myself as captain. All my mates implored me to seek rest in this tropical sun; I must have been paranoid again.

I consulted with Samir. Perhaps I caught a taste of that flat fish without realizing.

* * *

 

9/30

We have decided to form a search party to find Victor and Humphrey. I insisted on joining, partly to see what else this island had to offer, though I was also hoping the exercise would tire the paranoia and nerves all quelled in my mind. Lowthe seems to agree with me- such a loyal mate he is. I couldn't find one more dependable than he.

* * *

 

_***from here, several pages are torn from the journal, enough to make a noticeable gap along the top of the spine*** _

* * *

 

10/14

Dearest Leatty, I apologize to striken you so. Tinder was needed for a fire, and my compatriots share not the sympathies that I have for you.

We are sitting here, caged, like animals- I dare not kid you. Traversing the island wilderness, the search party perused as best we could, but to no avail, finding not a trace of Victor and the other one. Giles suggested turning back, but Copinger insisted we press on, lest we lose his brother forever- his brother was not Victor, but the other one.

Not long after, we were ambushed! These feral bodies of humans hopping out from the brush, chortling like hyenas as they surrounded us as though we were fresh for the kill. My heart raced so intensely, so immeasurably, that even Rykworth -my most trusted of my mates- could sense my nerves. He was the first to be brought to his knees, though we were all batted at like swine, the natives wielding large clubs fashioned from the trees above.

Their voices were ever-winding, though it sounded unmistakably Asian, a collection of languages I would often hear at the old Medes Showhouse, languages that were something of a curiosity to me. Though unable to communicate, it was clear they meant no harm, as we survived the ordeal, though those fiend took as like cattle, caging us up in makeshift cages, piles of bone collected in the corner with a smell so pungent I dare not recall its viscous undercurrent of filth.

We've sat here for five days, nearly six. I write this with the hopes that a larger, more wary, party comes hunting for us. Lest I fear this journal is one without an ending.

* * *

 

11/12

Fear not, Leathy, for we may yet prevail! I write this on the beach as the men pack up the ship, readying our departure, careful not to leave out anything of our awesome escape until I'm sure there is physical documentation.

With enough of my journal abused, I refused to lend anymore paper, leaving Brewster to tear at his own clothes for tinder. On a pure chance, he pulled out that stone from our ship's side to use as flint, striking it against another rock for a spark, when some random buster came by to investigate. He must have recognized the stone, as it sent him dashing off, leaving us all confused.

On a chance this confusion brought the tribal people to a halt, Giles and Byngman came up with a sudden escape plan to lift up our cage and waddle off into the bush, though myself and the others disagreed, though debate ensued.

Then came the strangest thing. Not in my wildest imagination would I have pegged myself as gobsmacked as I was at that moment. Amidst our argument, a jingling, like chains, broke us from our spell, drawing our already frail attention toward the most strangest of sights.

Two men were there, on all fours, one ripened with green hair and the other who could easily have been a relative. Chains rose from their necks, right up into the hand of the one female we had seen among their group, standing atop their bare backs as though she were their Queen. Their backs were torn from her rugged-looking shoes, their arms worked to the bone, their shoulders barely able to keep themselves upright, much less the body standing atop them. Their faces were covered with mud and filth, as though the two had been forced to eat their meals out of a hole in the ground, their faces covered with dried blood, perhaps having had to fight one another, biting each other furiously for their meals, all underneath the amusement of the woman above, a cocksure grin creeping across her face at her balance shook, a reminder of the weakening men below her feet.

My men were in a swelter of awe and terror, the Queenish lady pointing toward the stone and barking in a foreign tongue that was indecipherable. Handing it over, she examined the item with a scoff, tossing it aside before waving us away, her words suddenly emerging in something resembling plain English, telling us to return home, for their message on a stone for help was no longer necessary. Though, if anybody were to return to her island, they'd be met with far more brutality than we were.

She ensured our other two comrades were freed along with us, and we wasted no time scurrying toward the beach, rounding our way to our ship and immediately packing our things, preparing for our journey home.

I've seen things in my life bordering on the insane, and then I saw that nefarious-looking woman, locking up men as though they were beasts, though perhaps that's what they were. I couldn't tell you whether they'd all come here and claimed the island, or perhaps she had claimed them all. But those sounds of clanging chains… Such a sound rings, pinging throughout my mind with a brutish horror.

I can only hope those two men got what they deserved.


End file.
